Christians Virgin
by JaspersSweetheart87
Summary: Ruthless and rich. Christian Grey is assigned a very special task by his adoptive father to find someone for him. And what he finds is a very alluring and attractive women. Anastasia Steele had always been lead to believe that she had no family so what happens when she find out that she does. Rating is MA just in case so please no one under 18. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone I would just like to say thank you for choosing to read this story. I do not own any of the characters I just play with them.**

 **I did have another story up but I pulled it because this story was taking all my attention and I felt the other story was being rushed and I didn't want that to happen.**

 **So please enjoy and leave a review I will be updating it as soon as possible =]**

Chapter One:

As the Island ferry pulled into the dock Christen Grey got into his car where Taylor was waiting and prepared himself for what would be an unpleasant interview.  
Waving a hand to Taylor to start the car he drove up the metal ramp onto the narrow highway. He knew exactly where he was going. He owned most of the island, after all.  
An island now awash in early September sunlight, it's thickets of evergreen hugging the cliffs, the sea sparkling as it dashed itself against the rocks.  
He was here at the request of Carrick, His adoptive father. Here on a fool errand, one that would lead to nothing but trouble because the women he was to track down was in theory.  
Carrick's grand daughter.

Carrick's grand daughter? That had to be a joke of the century. She was a fake. of course she was.  
According to Carrick she'd been born in LA and spent most of her life in Europe. Yet for the last eleven months she'd been living a mere forty miles from his parents family summer mansion on the coast of Maine.  
Christian didn't believe in coincidence. Anastasia Steele was an imposter who'd heard of Carrick's considerable fortune and was biding her time to make a claim to it.  
So it was up to him to stop her. And stop her he would.  
On the meadows above the road, three deer were peacefully grazing. Christians eyes flicked over them, barely registering their presence. Carrick so he'd said had known about Ana ever since she was born, had supported her financially for her entire life, but had never been in touch with her directly or had spoke of her existence to anyone.  
Through local gossip, Christian had long ago found out about Carrick's first biological son. The black sheep of the family who was supposedly Anastasia Steele's father. Carrick had not spoken a word about him either.

The two best kept secrets on the eastern seaboard, Christian thought, his fingers drumming the soft leather on the seats. If by any chance that she wasn't a fake then she was related to Carrick by blood as he Christian , was not.  
This simple fact rankled, he resented even the possibility of Carrick having a grand daughter. Stupid of him, no doubt. but wasn't his reaction one more indication of how he'd always felt cheated of any true connection to his father?  
Christian rolled down the window, the breeze tugging at his hair. Another minute or two and he'd be there. The investigator's report had stated that she was renting a converted fish shack just past the village.  
The investigator was one Christian himself had used, his reputation was impeccable. But this time he was out to lunch.  
As for strategy, Christian figured he'd wing it once he was face to face with her. For sure he'd have to fight her off. T  
There wasn't' a women alive who could resist Carrick's money let alone Christians far more substantial wealth. Billionaire had a certain ring to it he had to admit.  
So there were two rich men in the family. Yeah he'd have to fight her off.  
They rounded a corner, and there, on the shore of the cove was a fish shack that had been turned into a small winterized cabin. An image of moorings, Carrick's summer place flashed across Christians mind. Carrick wanted him to bring Anastasia Steele to Moorings on the return trip. The contrast with the fish shack was so laughable that Christians anger jumped up another notch.  
They turned down the dirt track to the cabin. No car parked outside and no sign of life. Anastasia worked full time, Tuesday to Saturday at the local library that's all that he knew, It was why he arrived well before nine on a Saturday morning.  
He drew up outside the cabin and climbed out of the car.  
Waves murmured on the shingled beach, a pair of gulls soared over head, their wings limned in light. Filling his lungs with cool salt air Christian briefly forgot his errand in the moment of sheer pleasure. His own love of the sea was a rare bond between him and Carrick.  
With an impatient sigh, he strode over to the door, knocked hard and knew that silence on the other side of the door meant that she wasn't home. Fools errand indeed. She wasn't even there.  
On ponderous gray wings a heron flew past and to Christians ears came the rattle of footsteps on the pebbles. Swiftly he circles the cabin. A women wearing brief shorts and a tank top was jogging toward him along the crest of the beach. She was agile, tanned and lithe, her hair jammed under a vivid orange baseball cap.  
Then she caught sight of him, she stopped dead in her tracks, her breasts heaving from exertion and for the space of ten full seconds they stared at each other across the expanse of pebbled beach.  
At a much slower pace which was imbued with reluctance or was it fear? Christian wondered and she started towards him.  
On his way to the cabin, he'd pictured a bleached blonde with a slash of red lipstick and a lush in your face body.  
He'd been wrong. About as wrong as he could be.  
His mouth dry, his eyes intent, he watched her come to a halt twenty feet away from him, her back to the sun.  
No lipstick. A sheen of sweat on her face, most of which was shadowed by the oversize brim of her hat. Workmanlike smeakers on her feet and legs to die for. He stepped closer and saw her, almost imperceptibly shrink away from him.

"Are you lost?" She said sharply.

"Are you Anastasia Steele?"

"Yes"

"My name is Christian Grey. I need to talk to you"

He could have easily have missed any tiny flicker of response that crossed her features as he said his name, so swift was it and swiftly subdued. Oh yes he thought, you're good.  
Just not quite good enough.

"I'm sorry. I don't know you and I don't have time to talk to you, I need to get ready for work."

"I think when you know why I am here, you'll make the time." He said softly.

"then you think wrong. If you really want to see me come to the public library. Half a minute down the road across from the post office. I'll be there until five this afternoon and now if you'll excuse me."

"Carrick," Christen said. "That name doesn't ring a bell?"

"Why should it?"

"Carrick Grey is my father, he's the one who sent me here. His other son Elliot was your father."

Her body went rigid. In a staccato voice she said.

"How do you know my fathers name?"

"Let's go inside. As I said we have things to talk about."

But she was backing away, step by step her gaze glued to his face.

"I'm not going anywhere with you." She said , her fists clenched by her side so tightly that her knuckles were white.  
Terror, Christian thought, puzzled. Why the hell would she be terrified of him? she should be jumping up and down for joy that Carrick Grey had finally sent someone to seek her out.

"If you don't want to go inside we can talk out here. There's lots of time the library doesn't open for another hour and a half." He said.

"Talk about what?"

"Your grandfather. Carrick Grey. Who just so happens to spend his summers forty miles down the coast. Don't tell me that you don't know about him because I won't believe you."

"You're out of your mind," She whispered. "I don't have a grandfather. My grandparents died a long time ago, not that it is any of your business. Whatever your game is Mr Grey, I don't like it. Please leave. And don't come back or I'll call the police."

The sheriff on the island was a longtime friend of Christian's. He should have come up with a strategy. Christian thought irritably, because this wasn't going the way he had imagined it would.

"Who told you your grandparents died?"

A tiny shiver rippled through her body, she hugged her arms to her chest.

"Go away and just leave me alone."

"We have several options here but that's not one of them."

Christian's jaw tightened. Above her thin tank top he could see the enticing shadow of her cleavage. Her arms were smoothly muscled, her fingers long and narrow. Ring less he noticed and in a sudden spurt of rage recalled the Grey family Diamonds.  
He'd had enough of this ridiculous fencing. In a blur of movement, he'd closed the distance between them, gripped her by the arms and said forcefully.

"Your grandfather sent me. Elliot Seniors father."

Ducking her head. she kicked out at him as vicious and unexpected as a snake. As Christian automatically evaded the slash of her foot, she tore free and took off at a run up the slope.  
In five fast strides Christian caught up with her, grabbed her by the shoulder and tugged her around to face him. But before he could say anything her body went limp in his hold.  
Oh yeah, he thought cynically, oldest trick in the book. Digging his fingers into her shoulder because she was a dead weight he wrapped the other arm around her waist.  
Then to his dismay he realized it wasn't a trick. She'd actually fainted. Face paper white, eyes shut, body boneless. With a muttered curse, he lowered her to the ground and thrust her head between her knees.  
So the terror had been real. What in gods name was going on? Impulsively he pulled her hat off her head housing a tumble of dark chestnut curls from which the sun teased streaks of gold. It was soft between his fingers, silky smooth. She was too thin he thought. But her skin was like silk too.  
Then she stirred, muttering something under her breath. He said with a calmness he was far from feeling.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have frightened you like that."

He could hear her trying to steady her breath, the small sounds mote him with compunction. He added.

"I've never in my life terrified a women into fainting, not my style which is something you'll have to take on trust. Look let's start again. I have a very important message for you, One I promised to deliver. But we can do this outside so you'll feel safe."


	2. Chapter 2

**I wasn't going to update again tonight as it is 1.06am where I am but here is another chapter for you all. So let me know what you think =]**

Chapter Two:

Slowly Ana raised her head, her hair falling around her face. She needed a haircut she thought distantly. Time to get out the scissors and hack the ends off.  
The man was still there, Through her tumbled curls she saw hair brown hair the color of chocolate, eyes the harsh grey of the cliffs that ringed the island. His face was carved like a Greek god and undeniably, terrifyingly male.  
A strange. But worse than a strange, she thought with a superstitious shiver. Her fate. Dark, dangerous and full of secrets.  
Pushing her hair back, terror rising in her throat again so that she could barely breathe.

"I have nothing here worth stealing. No money, and I don't do drugs. I swear I don't" she said raggedly.

Your eyes. They're Green."

Panic stricken she gaped at him. Con artist, or certifiably mad? What did green eyes have to do with anything? She pushed hard against him.

"There's nothing here for you. My father is dead, he has been for years. Can't you just leave me in peace?" she said frantically.

Christens heart was thudding in his chest, her words barely registered. In all his life, he'd only known one other person who had eye that true deep green, the green wet leaves in springtime. That person was Carrick Grey.  
She must me Carrick's grand daughter. She had to be.

"Do you wear contact lenses?" he rapped.

Temper streaked with a flash of humor came to her rescue, briefly subduing her fear.

"Which mental ward have you escaped from? You're here to rob me and you want to know if I wear contacts?"

"Just answer m, you're eyes are they really green?"

"Of course they are, what kind of stupid question is that?

"The only question that matters." He said heavily

So she wasn't a fake, he'd been way off base. That wasn't his style either.  
As for her, her whole body was taut with tension, she was looking at him as warily as if he really was an escapee from a mental warn, or a thief. the other accusation she'd thrown at him.  
Logically he should explain the significance of her eye color, but he wasn't quite ready to do that.

"I'm no thief, I have all the money I will ever need and I am entirely sane, As for drugs I have never touched them in my life and never will I have enough excitement in day to day life without having to dose myself up with chemical additives." Christian said.

He hesitated then added with huge reluctance.

"I am here to give you something, not to take anything away."

"There's nothing you can give me that I would want." She said stonely "Nothing"

"How can you say that when you haven't heard me out? The first step is for both of us to stand up how about it?"

His smile didn't reach his eyes as he took her by the elbow. The coolness of her skin seeped into his pores, her nearness sent heat licking along his veins. Liquid heat, primitive and lethal. Oh no he thought appalled, he was not going to lust after Carrick's grand daughter. That really wasn't in the cards.  
But as he eased her upright his senses were assaulted by her body and by the scent of coconut and vanilla that drifted from her skin. Again desire ravaged him, unasked for and totally unwelcome. With all the will power at his command a willpower honed over the years Christian kept his face an unrevealing mask and forced himself to relax.  
Shrugging off his suit jacket he wrapped it around her shoulders.

"You're cold, go inside and get something warm on, you could call the police too. Dan Pollard's the sheriffs name. I've known him for years. Give him a description and he'll vet me. Then we shall talk."

Ana swallowed Christian was standing to close to her, mush to close. But while there was concern in his voice and remorse overlying in grey depths of his gaze, she had the strong sense that both these emotions were at best superficial.  
Grey she thought, she shuddered. How could she trust anyone with the same last name as her father.

"I'll call the police right now, do not follow me." She said flatly.

A gull screamed overhead as she walked towards the cabin. The door shut behind her and Christian heard the snap of the lock. Restlessly he began prowling up and down. if she really was Carrick's grand daughter why had she never contacted him? She'd been here for nearly a year and not once had she tried to contact him. What kind of game was she playing? Lying to him, telling him both her grandparents were dead.  
What was taking her so long?  
Swiftly he waled around the back of the cabin wondering if he had fallen for the second oldest trick in the book, escape via the back door. But through the plate glass windows that overlooked the small deck and the ocean he could see her inside, her back to him as she did something at the stove. Declining to spy on her Christian turned around and stared out to sea.  
No answers there.  
The back door scrapped open.

"I've made coffee. I'll give you sixteen minutes of my time and not a minute more." she said

"Did you phone the sheriff?"

As she gave a choppy nod, Christian pulled up on one of the cheap plastic chairs and sat down. She set a tray on the low table.  
Her movements swift, she poured two mugs of steaming coffee and pushed a plate of muffins towards him.

"Home made?" he asked. she nodded.

"Blueberry, I picked the berries two weeks ago. I have lived here nearly a year why did you pick today to turn up?"

He knew exactly how long she had lived here.

"A month ago my fathers dad had a minor heart attack. It scared the hell out of him and he like everyone else is mortal and that's when he hired a investigator to..."

"An investigator?"

The terror was back in full force, nor was she making any effort to mask it.

"That's right," Christian said all his suspicions resurfacing. "Carrick wanted to know your whereabouts, Eventually the investigator came up with this location. You must have known of Carrick's existence or why else would you be living so close?"

Ana buried her nose in her mug, inhaling the scent of her coffee before answering.

"I'm living here on the island because I was offered a job here and I love the sea." And because she thought it was a very long way from Amsterdam.

"Why would Elliot lie, telling me both my grandparents died years ago in new york city. Not long after my grandmother succumbed to pneumonia."

"Was your father a truthful man?"

Her fingers tightened around the handle of her mug.

"He had no reason to lie."

"He did lie. Carrick's very much alive and wants to meet you, that's why I am here. to bring that about."

Coffee sloshed over the rim of her cup. "No."

"You haven't heard me out."

"I don't want to meet him! Ever. Go home and tell him that and don't either of you bother me again."

"That's not good enough."

"Maybe you should try looking at it from my point of view." she snapped color flooding her cheeks.

Christian looked at her in silence, her cheeks a soft pink color, her lips were a soft and voluptuous curve, infinitely enticing while her eyes were so beautiful and vivid in hue and they drew him in like a magnet. She was the most beautiful women he had ever see before in his life. And he had seen and bedded more than a few beautiful women.

"So what is your point of view?" he said with a hard voice.

Fractionally she hesitated.

"I disliked my father, disliked and distrusted him, therefore I have no wish to meet his father, a man who let's be frank had ignored my existence for twenty two years."

Christian leaned forward, clipping off his words. "He's supported you financially for twenty two years or are you forgetting about that?"

She laughed "Supported me? are you kidding?"

"Every month of your life, money has been put in a Swiss account for your use."

She banged her mug on the table, more coffee spilled over the rim.

"You're lying. I've never seen a penny of that money."

"Or are you lying?" Christian said with dangerous softness.

"There's a lot of money where that came from."

"Don't insult me, I wouldn't touch Grey money! It's the last thing I need." she surged to her feet.

Christian stood up too and his eyes deliberately went to her plastic furniture and the little cabin.

"Doesn't look that way to me."

"Money, you think that can buy everything? Look around you Christian grey. I got o sleep at night to the sound of waves. I watch the tides come and go and shorebirds feed, the deer wander over the hill, I am free here. I'm in control of my own life and I'm finally learning to be happy and no one is going to take that away from me. No one! Including Carrick Grey." she spat.

Abruptly Ana ran out of words, Dammit she thought why did I spout out like that? I never talk about myself to anyone. And then to bare my soul to Christian Grey of all people. A man who screams danger from every pore.  
He was watching her, those storm grey eyes focused on her, intent as a hunter who see movement in the underbrush.

"one of us is lying and it isn't me." he said.

"then why are you so anxious to introduce me to my grandfather? If I'm nothing but a money grubbing liar?" she said sweetly.

"Because he asked me too."

"Oh so you dance to his tune? But of course I'm forgetting he is a very rich man."

Christian's breath hissed between his teeth. Had he ever known a women to get so easily under his skin?

"Carrick gave me a secure and happy childhood and taught me a great deal over the years. Now he is old and sick and it's payback time." he grated.

"You didn't mean to tell me that did you? anymore then I meant to sound off about freedom and happiness" Ana said going on intuition.

Infuriated by her accuracy, Christian picked up his mug and drained it.

"You make a mean cup of coffee Anastasia Steele, in your lunch hour go on the internet and look up Grey Inc, check Me and Carrick out. get a few facts. I'm taking you out for dinner after work. I'll pick you up here at six thirty sharp and we shall continue this conversation then."

She raised her eyebrow and smirked.

"Are you giving me orders?"

"You catch on fast Miss Steele."

"I have my faults but stupidity isn't one of them."

"I didn't think it was." he said dryly.

"Good then you understand why I am not going out to dinner with you. Goodbye Mr Grey. It's been...Interesting."

"So interesting that I'm not about to say goodbye, Come off it Anastasia you're certainly smart enough to know I won't vanish because it suits you. Six thirty. If nothing else you'll get a free meal at the hotel, prepared by one of the finest chefs along the coast, besides I've been told I'm a passable dinner date. Now hadn't you better get ready for work instead of standing there staring at me with your mouth open? I wouldn't want you to be late." His smile bared his teeth.

"I'm not..."

He took two steps of the deck in a single stride. Loped around the corner of the cabin, got into the car that was waiting for him and roared up the slope.  
he'd gotten away from her without touching her again. For which he deserved a medal and he knew exactly what he was going to do next. A self imposed task, the potential results rather more important than he liked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey there everyone, Thank you all so much for the following and adding this to your favorites.**

 **Here is a small chapter but I will be updating again today so don't worry you don't have to wait long for the dinner date =] So please enjoy.**

Chapter three:

Carefully Christian steered the car between the potholes in Anastasia's driveway, He had given Taylor the night off and he was twenty five minutes early.  
Only he assured himself, because he'd completed his task, and the paperback novel he'd brought with him had failed to hold his attention.  
Nothing to do with her, and the itch under his skin to see her again.  
He climbed out of his car and knocked on her door. No answer. He knocked again, feeling his nerves tighten. Had he been a fool to take her for granted and assume she'd be meekly waiting for him? She was no pushover. If she didn't want to see him again she'd take measures to put that into effect.  
He tried the door which to his surprise opened smoothly, stepping inside he closed it behind him. Ellie Goulding was playing through the stereo, the shower was running at full blast.  
Anastasia was home and she hadn't run away.  
It shouldn't matter to him as much as it did.  
Christian looked around taking his time. Clothes were flung over the chair, A black dress, hose and sleek black underwear that raised his blood pressure a full notch. Dragging his eyes away, he took in the cheerful hooked rugs dotting the warn pine board floor and the array of cushions that brightened the sagging chesterfield. Books overflowed the homemade shelves. The room was surprisingly clean.

Absolutely no evidence that she'd ever had any access to Carrick's allowance or to any other substantial amount of money.  
Christian thought. basically it was a room of someone who lived of a minimal paycheck.  
Someone who'd be far from immune to the Grey wealth.  
The music came to an end. He flipped through a stack of CD's discovering some old favorites of his own, intrigued by how eclectic a collection it was. He selected a CD and snapped open the cover.  
The shower shut off. As he leaned down to push the play button a door opened behind him and he heard the soft pad of bare feet on the wooden floor. He turned around.  
Ana shrieked with alarm, clutching the towel to her breasts. Her hair was wrapped in another towel, her shoulders were pearled with water and her legs went on forever. He wanted her, Christian thought. He wanted her now. Fiercely and without thought for the consequences.

He wasn't going to do a damn thing about it. For starters she was Carrick's grand daughter and strictly off limits. Plus more importantly he was far from convinced she was as innocent as she looked. Too much money was at stake.

"You're early." She said shakily.

"I did knock. The door was unlocked."

"I usually don't bother locking it. Although I guess I should when you're around."

"Anastasia," he said hoarsely.

"Don't come near me!"

The terror was back in full force.

"Sometime soon you're going to tell me why I frighten you so badly, I made a dinner reservation for Seven and as charming as you look right now, a towel won't cut it" he said.

Her heart was still racketing in her chest. Sure, he'd startled her but what was more then that. In his light grey suit, grey shirt and silk tie, Christian looked formidably sophisticated and wholly and disturbingly male. Not to mention sexy a word she avoided like the plague.  
She was the nearest thing to naked.  
Power, she thought slowly, that's when he breathed although he was quite possibly unaware of it. Power. Money. Sexual charisma. All three put his danger quotient off the chart.  
She didn't do sex.  
To her horror she heard herself blurt.

"If Carrick Grey is my grandfather, that makes you my uncle."  
This all too obvious fact hadn't struck her until five minutes after Christian had left her this morning.

"I'm Carrick's adopted son. No blood relation to him at all or to you." Christian said curtly, Just as well he thought, given the way his hormones were acting up.

Adopted. Not a blood relative. But not her fate either. Ana thought in a snap of fury, nearly a man who was a total stranger to her and who would remain just that, a stranger.  
Unfortunately her thoughts didn't stop there, because she'd grown up in an environment where she could trust nothing and she'd always endeavored to remain honest with herself. If she were to be honest now relief had been her predominant emotion that Christian Grey wasn't relegated to her by blood. Close on it's heels had been utter dismay at all the implications of that relief.

It didn't matter who Christian was. She just didn't do sex.  
Deeply grateful that he couldn't read her mind.

"so you're an adopted son. If I'm the newly discovered grand daughter aren't you afraid I'll supplant you?" she said tartly.

"No," Christian said coldly and watched her lower lashes for face unreadable.

Then she looked up meeting his gaze in unspoken challenge.

"My clothes are on the chair, Turn your back." She said

Unwillingly admiring her spirit he tore his eyes from the silken slopes of her bare shoulders and did as she asked.

"You okay with this music?"

"Meatloaf, Verdi, Diana Krall, play what you like. And I'm not wearing a towel for dinner. I'm wearing a dress. The only one that I own so if it's not up to your standards then too bad." she said wildly.

"You'd look gorgeous wearing burlap."

"Mr Christian Flattery Grey," she retorted, picking up her clothes and holding them like a shield in front of her.

Suddenly angry Christian turned to face her.

"I mean it. Look in the mirror for god's sake you're an extraordinarily beautiful women."

"I'm too skinny and my hair is a mess." her jaw dropped.

He grinned at her, a mocking grin sparked with so much energy that it took her breath away.

"Slender not skinny. Although you're right about the hair a good cut would do wonders." He drawled

"What's is your angle? If money doesn't work try sex?"

"What a wildcat you are. Hissing and spitting if anyone gets near you."

"Whereas you're like a panther! Sleek and dangerous."

She hadn't meant to say that. Only to think it.

"Now who's pouring on the flattery? Get dressed and dry that mop of hair or we'll be late for dinner." Christian said.

Oddly enough beneath a storm of emotions she couldn't possibly have labeled, Ana was very hungry. Scowling she marched out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster when swathed in an old blue bath towel and shut her bedroom door with more than force required.

For the first time in her life she wished she owned a real dress. Something out of vogue, stunningly simple, reeking of money and sophistication.  
With a vicious snap she switched on her hair dryer. She didn't have time to cut her hair but she was going to slather on eyeshadow and mascara. For courage, she thought picking up her brush.  
Because wasn't one of the several reasons she'd decided to keep this dinner date the simple fact that running away was the coward's way out?  
In the last few years, she'd done too much running.


	4. Chapter 4

**So here is another Update my lovely's. Enjoy and don't forget to leave a review so I know what you think.**

Chapter Four:

Christian had out on Mozart by the time Ana walked back into the living room. Taking his time, he looked her up and down. Noticing instantly that her fingernails were digging into her palms and her jaw was tight. Her dress was a plain black sheath, teamed with sheer black hose and stiletto heels. She'd swept her tangle of hair into a knot high on her head. Clustered black beads dangled from her ears. Her mouth.. his own went dry was a luscious raspberry red.

"Beautiful is such a overused word you take my breath away." He said.

Her heart lurched in her breast.

"I made my dress from a remnant that was on sale. The shoes come from Second Time Around I only hope the original owner won't be eating dinner at the hotel." she said cooly.

"I bet she never looked that good in them."

"You're too kind."

Part of her liked this verbal banter. Ana thought uneasily culling a stab of fear, she took a white mohair sweater from the cupboard and flung it around her shoulders and she stalked out the door.

Christians car smelled of leather, he drove with smooth confidence making small talk about the surroundings later they were seated in the hotel dining room by a window overlooking the ocean, the apple-wood in the fireplace crackled cheerfully. Trying not to panic at the alarming array of silverware, Ana took a deep breath and went on the offensive.

"your company Grey Inc. owns this hotel. And many others worldwide, all part of the Grey chain of fine hotels."

"yes he has a rather large ego but so do I, You clearly checked him out."

"Him and his adoptive son. I'd be a fool not to meet him wouldn't I? A rich old man, every women's dream."

"No more shoes from Second Time Around." Christian said.

"no more hose from the dollar store."

The waiter put a menu in front of her. a thick leather binder embossed with gold. She wasn't going to be intimidated by a menu. Ana thought resolutely and opened it to the first page.

"Once I've hooked up with Carrick I could buy the dollar store, a whole string of them."

"You could, do you like martinis?" Christian said.

She'd never had one.

"Of course."

"straight up or on the rocks?"

"On the rocks. I could buy a car like yours."

"several I should think."

Her eyes narrowed. She was doing her best to act like the crassest of fortune hunters and Christian wasn't even reacting. If anything he was laughing at her. Chewing on her lip she added,

"I'd inherit a ton of money when my grandfather dies. Enough to buy diamond earrings and go on a world cruise."

"Grey Inc. owns a fleet of cruise ships you could take your pick. Stateroom the works. I'm sure by then you'd have found some diamonds to your taste."

She'd never liked the look of diamonds. Too cold, too flashy.

"Emeralds to go with my eyes." she said dreamily.

"Excellent choice..have you decided on an appetizer?"

The menu was in Italian with the English in script below. When she was eleven she'd spent a year in Rome with Elliot and her wayward mother. Ana said in impeccable Italian.

"I'll have fegato grasso al mango with stufato di pesce for a main course."

Each was the most expensive item on the page. Blanking out the actual dollar amount.

"How is your Carrick's fathers health? you mentioned a heart attack." She said with as much innuendo as her conscience would alllow.

"Oh I suspect he'd got a good many years in him yet. You might have to wait for that inheritance."

"Or is the inheritance like the support, nonexistent? If as you claim, I really am related to him, I could always go to the press. Illegitimate Grand daughter cheated of her rights. I can see the headlines now, can't you?" She retorted.

With a flourish the waiter put the martinis on the table, and took their orders. Ana loathed olives. she picked up the frosted glass and took a hefty swallow. Her face convulsed.

"that's straight antifreeze!"

"Your first martini?" Christian said innocently.

"They don't serve them at the chicken takeout, I see why. who's want to eat olives pickled in ethylene glycol?" she grimaced.

Christian signaled the waiter, asked for a brandy Alexander and said smoothly.

"Carrick hates martinis too and loves the ocean."

"Does he how nice. You know if allegedly he's been supporting me since I was born he owes me quite a backlog. I'd better hire a good lawyer." She smiled at him batting her eyelashes.

"It would have to be a very good one to take on Grey Inc."

"Then there's you, you make Carrick's fortune look like small change." She said in a voice like cream, brushing his fingers with her own letting them linger until every nerve in his body tightened.

It was the first time she'd touched him voluntarily and how he loathed her motive for doing it. Holding tight to his temper Christian watched her pout her raspberry red lips, heard her purr.

"I'd be a fool to turn my back on you or Carrick, Christian. But especially you."

His voice taut because there was a limit to what a man had to put up with.

"Do you know what I did today?" Christian said.

"No"

"I wandered around the village talking to people about you, People who've known you for the better part of eleven months"

The pout was gone, he noticed with mean pleasure replaced by blank shock. Calmly he kept going.

"I'm sure you'd agree with me that the islanders to a man or woman are sober New Englanders who don't go for flattery. They described you as reliable, honest, frugal, hardworking. Likes to walk on the beaches by herself. Hardly ever goes off the island. No friends. No wild parties. No men."

Ana gripped the edge of the table.

"You spent the day gossiping about me? How dare you! And why would they talk to you? The islanders aren't just sober, they're closed mouthed to a fault."

"several years ago, I paid top dollar to buy up ninety percent of the island. made it into a nature conservancy to protect it fro development, the only concession being that I build this place." Christian waved his martini at his surroundings.

"So I'm like a dirty sock the islanders love me, so you might want to drop the gold digger act, it's wasted on me. You can't fool and islander if they say you're honest as the tide turns I'll go along with that."

For now he added silently.

With exquisite timing, the waiter deposited a creamy drink sparkling with nutmeg in front of her. She glared at it, trying to gather her wits. She'd just made a total fool of herself, good job Ana. What's the follow up?

"Try your drink." Christian said, giving her the full benefit of his smile. One if his women had called it lethal, another said dynamite. It was a weapon he wasn't above using when it suited him.

But instead of blushing in confusion or smiling back. She said furiously.

"I've never laid my eyes on one red cent of your fathers money."

"That was the next item on the agenda."

He waited while her antipasto was out in front of her.

"I talked to Carrick today. He's stubborn, cantankerous old man, who likes control and claims he's mislaid the investigator's report"

"You haven't seen it?"

The emotion in her face was unquestionably relief. Christian picked up his fork.

"No. But I did get out of Carrick by sheer bloody mindedness the investigator's discovery that ever since your father died six years ago, your allowance has been siphoned off the account by your mother, I can only presume Elliot Senior took it prior to that."

Briefly Ana shut her eyes. Her parents. Her father with his unpredictable rages, his drug induced highs and her mother who was wild willful and never to be trusted, the rooms she thought oh them god awful rooms...

"What's wrong?" Christian demanded.

When she opened her eyes she was back in the elegant dining room with its high arched windows and vaulted ceiling and a pair of stormy grey eyes boring into her soul.

"I'm fine." she said flatly and with superhuman effort pulled herself together. The brandy Alexander was amazing as it slid down her throat. The array of silver looked a little less intimidating. Carefully she selected the mate of the fork Christian used and took a bite of mango, chewing thoroughly, tasting nothing.

"You called me a liar back at the cabin."

"I shouldn't have doubted you," Christian said curtly. At least with regard to Carrick's monthly support he shouldn't have. But he still had plenty of other questions about the all too desirable and highly enigmatic Anastasia Steele.

The tight knot in her chest easing somewhat for hadn't he more or less apologized?

"You still wish I was a thousand miles away from Carrick don't you? So you and I are on the same wavelength. The distance will be forty miles not a thousand but forty miles is plenty. Because I don't care about the Grey money. His or yours. I like my life here on the island it's all I want and I am not leaving here. You can tell my grandfather I'm grateful he did his best to support me and that it wasn't his fault that I never saw the money. But it's to late now. I don't need his support anymore." she said shrewdly.

Her green eyes blazed with honesty, Disconcerted, Christian discovered in himself a contrary and ridiculous urge to take her words at face value. To trust her.  
He'd never trusted a women in his life other then Grace whose every motive had been on the surface for all to see. Ana wasn't Grace. Ana was mysterious, fiery and unpredictable.  
Trust her? He's be a fool to be betrayed by a pair of emerald green eyes.  
He's been holding a weapon in abeyance. Deciding now was the time to use it.

"Carrick told me something else today, that the investigator drew a complete blank for the year you turned sixteen. The year your father died. What happened that year?" Christian asked cooly.

Her skin went cold, A roaring filled her ears. She couldn't faint again, she thought desperately. Not twice in one day. She shoved the fork in her mouth and concentrated on chewing.  
She might as well have been eating cardboard.  
She'd slept wrapped in cardboard for over two months.  
Forcing herself to swallow, desperate to change the subject.

"Where does my grandfather spend his winters?" She said jaggedly.

Christian sat back in his chair, gazing at her, his brain in over drive. Mysterious was a euphemism where Ana was concerned. She was secretive and closemouthed a women for whom terror was a constant companion. What had she done at sixteen or what had happened to her to induce that blank eyed stare and those trembling fingers?  
He shoved down a unwelcome pang of compassion, allowing all his latent distrust to rise to the surface instead.  
She'd been a model of good behavior ever since she'd arrived on the island. But preceding that? What then?

"Are you in trouble with the law?" he demanded.

"No" she said but her gaze was downcast and her voice lacked conviction.

Fine, he thought. I might just do some investigating on my own behalf. Carrick likes to think he holds the reins but I'm the one in control here.  
With equal certainty Christian knew that if he didn't bring Anastasia Steele back to his fathers place Carrick would order the chauffeur to drive him to the island and find her himself.

"You speak very good Italian." He said casually.

"When I was twelve I lived in Rome for a year." She glanced up her eyes shuttered.

"I also speak German, Dutch, French and a smattering of Spanish. A European upbringing has it's advantages" which she thought bitterly, really was lying.

"Favorite artist?"

"Van Gogh. I don't see how anyone could live in Amsterdam and not love his work. Rembrandt and Vermeer close seconds."

"Your tastes in music are eclectic and you like espionage novels."

"You should be the investigator, I also like medieval art, coconut soap and pizza with lots of cheese on it." She said nastily.

Coconut he thought, It was an unsophisticated scent but it somehow suited her. Trying to focus he said at random.

"Which University did you attend?"

Her lashes flickered and she said edgily. "There are other ways of getting and education."

"Where's your mother living now?"

She dropped her fork with a clatter. "I have no idea."

Her main course was put in front of her. Ana grabbed the nearest knife and fork and started to eat. Red wine had been poured into her glass. the firelight dancing like rubies in it's depths. In sudden despair, exhausted by memories she only rarely allowed to surface she craved to be home in her little cabin, the wood stove burning a mug of hot chocolate on the table beside her.  
And the clock turned back so that she'd never met Christian Grey never heard of a putative grandfather who lived only forty miles away.

"I've upset you." Christian said.

"You're good at that."

"I'd noticed. I'll book myself into a hotel and get in touch with Carrick tonight, We'll go see him tomorrow morning. Thee Library's closed Sunday and Monday I checked."

"I'm sure you did. I'm not going."

No point in arguing now, Christian thought. But at least there was some color back in her cheeks.  
What had she done at sixteen? Quelling a question he couldn't possibly answer. He began talking about the Vermeer he'd seen at the Museum and discovered that she was well informed, her judgments acute, occasionally slanted in a way that fascinated him. Then of course there was the play of firelight in the thick mass of hair, the shadows shifting over her delicate collarbone and ivory throat.  
Wanting her hadn't gone away, it had if anything intensified. Good thing he was known for his willpower. He was going to need all of it because to seduce Anastasia Steele would be a very bad move.  
They were sipping espressos when his cell rang.

"Excuse me a minute," he said and took it from his pocket.

"Grey." He barked.

Ana straightened her shoulders, trying to work the tension from them unobtrusively. In half an hour she'd be home, her door locked and her life resuming it's normal peaceful pattern.

Peace was all she wanted, Peace order and control.  
Then abruptly her attention switched to Christians side of the conversation.

"He's what? How bad? So you're at the hospital now? Okay I'll be on my way in five minutes. I'll see you tomorrow. Doc. Thanks" christian said.

He pushed the end button and thrust the phone back in his pocket. the color had drained from his face his jaw a tight line.

"Carrick's had another heart attack. A minor one according to the family doctor. We'll leave as soon as I've paid the bill"

So Christian loves his adoptive father, Ana thought and felt emotion clog her throat. Elliot hadn't loved her. Ever.  
She never cried, couldn't afford to. So why did she feel like crying now? She forced the tears down, watching Christian pass over his credit card.  
What if Carrick Grey had another heart attack in the night and died? She'd never meet him. Never find out if he really was her grandfather or if this whole farrago was the product of an overeager investigator. But if Carrick was by any chance truly her grandfather, blood of her blood shouldn't she see him, find out if he was a replica of Elliot or something different?

We... Christian had said a few moments ago. We'll leave... she thoroughly disliked the way he'd taken it for granted that she'd go with him.

It was her choice, and only hers.

Stay or go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey there lovely readers. Sorry I haven't updated in a few days. I know this is somewhat a small chapter but I promise you it will all be worth it. Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think =] Enjoy!**

Chapter Five:

Trying to decoded what she should do, Ana gazed at Christian in silence. He was frowning at the bill. His mind obviously elsewhere. What if he drove of the road because he was thinking about Carrick rather than his driving?  
Somehow the decision had made itself.

"If I come with you, I'll need some clothes." Ana said evenly.

"No time, we can get everything you need tomorrow. Let's go I have someone waiting with the car." Christian said.

Of course he had someone to drive the car, how could she have been so stupid, but she got up and followed him out of the dining room to his car and felt her heart contract.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"Don't worry I won't put you in a ditch."

It's you I'm worried about, not me. She thought as she fastened her seat belt, the sot leather seat enveloping her. Ana knew her words for the truth. How long since she'd allowed anyone else to matter to her?  
Forever and a day.  
Or, more accurately, not since that hot summer's night when she was five and she and her parents had fled on a midnight train. Just the three of them. They'd left behind Ana's beloved nanny without even having a chance to say goodbye to her.  
That long ago heartbreak, so laced with betrayal had cured Ana once and for all, of letting anyone get close to her.  
The last person she should allow to bend that rule was Christian Grey. Yet for some reason Ana found herself gazing at his hands. Strong hand's with long strong fingers that made her ache somewhere deep inside.  
She dragged her eyes away, staring out the window. The brief ferry trip was soon over, the forty mile drive passing in a blur of black spruce, dark rocks and the glitter of the moon on the sea. Although Christian showed no inclination to talk and she had nothing to say, the silence was far from restful. It was a relief when he pulled into the parking lot of an imposing brick building, and she could get out of the car and stretch her legs.

"Hospital's state of the art. Carrick endowed it after my mother died two years ago." he said without a trace of emotion, striding toward the entrance.

"Oh...I'm sorry she's dead."

"Carrick's lost without her," Christian said tersely, pushing open the door.

And you, she wondered, did you love your mother just as you so obviously love Carrick?  
Then to her dismay Christian took her by the hand. His palm was warm, his fingers clasping hers with automatic strength.  
With shocking speed heat raced though her body, fiery and inescapable. Her steps faltered every nerve on high alert.  
The ache in her belly intensified and she could no more deny it than she could shut out the long corridor with its antiseptic smell and the polished floor. Desire. She thought helplessly.  
I've never felt it in my life, yet recognized it as though I've always known it, How can that be?  
It was more than she could do to pull her hand away.  
Because Christian needed her, or because she was a total fool?  
Desire wasn't on the list, anymore than sex.  
They'd arrived at the elevator. As they rose to the second floor Ana stared at the controls, her body tumult of longing that both terrified and bewildered her.

She forced her features to immobility. She couldn't bear for Christian to guess her feelings for then she would truly be naked in front of him. There was just something about elevators, Christian thought to himself. He just wanted to take her right here.

As they left the elevator the nurse on duty smiled at Christian.

"Room 204, he is resting well." she said.

"Thanks." Christian said briefly.

Outside the room he hesitated, inwardly steeling himself for whatever he might find. Ana tried to tug her hand free but his fingers tightened and short of causing a scene she had no choice but to follow him into the room.  
Standing at his side, tension singing along her nerves Ana looked down at the man in the bed.

Carrick Grey was asleep, his mane of silver hair spread on the pillow, his strongly corded arms bare to the elbow.  
Automatically she recorded a beak of a nose an obstinate chin and the facial wrinkles of a man who's lived his life full tilt.  
She felt not the slightest flicker of recognition. Not even remotely did he remind her of her father.  
Swiftly Ana switched her gaze to Christian and with dismay saw a man closed against any emotion. His features were tight, his jaw clenched while his eyes were like dark pits, unreadable and unreachable.  
In unconscious antipathy she moved away from him so that their shoulders were no linger touching. She'd been wrong. Christian didn't love his adoptive father. By the look of him love wasn't a word he'd even recognize.  
In a way she was glad to see his true colors so clearly, it made it easier to dismiss him as a ruthless interloper who was interfering in her life with results she could neither anticipate nor desire.  
Desire. That word again.  
Desire someone incapable of loving the father who on Christians own admission had given him security and love as a boy? She'd have to be crazy to do that.

To her relief, a doctor came to the door. Christian joined him there, holding a low voiced conversation. Then came back into the room.

"We might as well go, Carrick will sleep the night through there's no point in staying." he said impersonally.

For a split second Ana looked down at the man lying so still in the bed, a man who other than common human concern, meant nothing to her.  
She preceded Christian out of the room, walking fast down the hushed corridor.

Sixteen minutes after they left the hospital, they slowed at two impressive stone pillars and turned down a driveway that wound between stiff Scotch pines and a forest of rhododendrons. Christians mansion boasted grandiose white pillars, a formal array of windows and huge chimneys, and equally formal gardens, raked, clipped and weeded to neatness nature never intended.  
Ana disliked it on sight.  
For the first time she broke the silence since they'd left the hospital.

"You'll take me home tomorrow." She said.

Christian rubbed his neck trying to get the tension out.

"You can sleep in the west wing . you'll hear the sea through the windows.'' he said.

"Tomorrow," she repeated.

He shifted in his seat so that he was gazing into her vivid green eyes. Against his will am image of Carrick flashed across his mind.  
A shrunken old man lying too still in a hospital bed, the bars raised on either side.

"Give it a rest Anastasia, Haven't we argued enough for one day?" he said sharply.

"Then perhaps try listening to me."

Whatever her background, she'd learned to fight for herself, he thought, watching the night shadows slant across her face.  
Her skin gleamed pale, infinitely desirable, the pulse throbbing gently at the base of her throat. Flooding him as irresistibly as a storm surge, he longed to rest his face there, close his eyes and let the warmth of her skin seep through his pores.  
Not since he'd started sating had he ever been pulled so strongly to a women. It wasn't the way he operated. Easy come, easy go, everything pleasant and on the surface that was him.  
He sure as hell wasn't going to break that pattern with Anastasia Steele. Might as well step into a mine field.  
Anyway, judging by the look on her face, she'd rather clobber him then hold him close.

"Let's go in," he said and climbed out of the car.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here is another update for my lovely readers. Thank you all so much for following this story and leaving reviews =] I hope you enjoy this chapter =]**

Chapter Six:

He unlocked the massive oak door, four large dogs came scrabbling across the marble floor, barking in excitement, white teeth gleaming. With a gasp of pure horror, Ana grabbed Christian, thrusting him between her and the dogs.

The alley, the dog snarling...crack of a gunshot.

"Down!" Christian said, and all fur subsided, jaws agape, tongues lolling. Swiftly he turned.

"You're afraid of dogs, Ana?"

Wrong word, he thought. For terror once again was etched into every line of her body, her eyes saturated with emotions, he couldn't begin to name, let alone understand.

"I..yes I am afraid of them," She faltered. Flushing she dropped her hold on his suit jacket.

"They thought I was Carrick."

"I don't care what they thought...just keep them away from me."

"You get bitten as a kid?" He said casually, signaling for the dogs to stay as he led her up the magnificent curve of the stairwell.

"Yes. Yes I was."

Accusing her of lying would start another argument, Christian decided. But she was definitely lying. Again. he opened the fourth door along the hallway.

"The Rose Room." he said ironically. "My mother was in many ways very conservative."

An ornate brass bed, too much ruffled chintz, an acre of rose pink carpet, and a bouquet of real roses on the mantel.

"My whole house would fit in here." Ana said.

Christian opened a drawer in the Chippendale dresser and pulled out a nightgown.

"Towels and toothbrush in the bathroom. Come down for breakfast in the morning any time you're ready." He said brusquely.

The gown was a slither of green silk that had probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. As Ana gingerly took it from him a spark of electricity leaped between them.  
She jumped back, giving a nervous laugh, tossing the gown on the bed.  
As though he couldn't help himself, Christian took her by the shoulders.

"All too appropriate," he said tightly.

His fingers scorched through her dress, his eyes skewered her to the wall. She tried to twist free.

"Don't!"

"You're so god damn beautiful I can't keep my hands off you."

Deep within, feelings she'd never experienced before uncoiled in her belly, slowly her knees felt weak. Her heart was juddering in her chest. With all her strength she pushed against the planes of Christians chest.

"If you brought me here to seduce me, you've got the wrong women. Let go Christian! Please.."

She wasn't a woman who would beg easily. She wasn't playing hard to get either, he was sure of that. Plain and simple she hated being touched. By him? Or by anyone?  
His usual women were willing. All too willing, tediously and predictably so which was probably why it had been a while since he had shared his bed.  
Christian released her, rubbing his palms down his trousers and stated the obvious.

"You feel the attraction too, but for some reason you're fighting it."

"I don't feel anything! Or is your ego so inflated you can't stand rejection?"

The wildcat was back, eyes glittering.

"You do feel it, Ana I can read the signals. We'll pick this up in the morning. Goodnight." he gave her a mock salute.

The door closed softly behind him. Ana locked it with a decisive snap than sank down on the bed. She'd never in her life met anyone like Christian Grey.  
A few minutes ago desire had almost overwhelmed her.  
Desire was a phenomenon she'd read about always with a faint derision, it wasn't something she'd ever expected to attack her like an enemy within.

When Ana woke up the next morning, the sound of the sea was drowned out by the hard pelt of rain driven against the windowpanes.  
Trying to shake off a strange sense of oppression, she sat up, and saw with a jolt of unease that an envelope had been pushed under her door.  
Opening it was warily as if it contained a deadly virus, Ana unfolded the sheet of heavy vellum. It said.

 _I'll stay at the hospital all day. The Taylor will find something for you to wear and the dogs will be kept in the kennels. Christian._

His handwriting was angular, decisive and very masculine.  
Cautiously Ana unlocked the door, peeked down the empty hallway and grabbed the small heap of clothes on the floor. Tights, a scoop necked T shirt and a pair of sandals that looked brand new, Taylor had come through.  
Quickly she dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. She spent the rest of the day curled up in the library, reading and listening to the rain, birch logs snapping in the fireplace. But to her intense annoyance, from mid afternoon onward she found herself straining for the sound of Christians car.  
She wanted him to drive her home. That was the only reason she was interested in his return.  
She got up, pacing back and forth wishing the rain would let up so she could go outdoors. Then from the corner of her eye she noticed a collection of framed diplomas on the wall of the alcove beyond the fireplace. Walking closer she saw degrees Harvard, awards from London School of Economics, the letters danced in front of her eyes.  
All the Diplomas were Christians.

Humiliation wasn't an emotion new to Ana, but she'd never felt it so keenly or so painfully. She hadn't even graduated from high school.  
Worse, she was the daughter of a small time crook and his unscrupulous mistress.  
Christian grey was way out of her league. One thing was certain, she'd never be his mistress. Not that she wanted to be of course.  
Viciously Ana dug the poker into the glowing coals, tossed another log on the fire and went back to her book.  
Dinner was a welcome break, even though her appetite had deserted her. But when Christian still wasn't back by Nine o'clock that evening. Ana clumped downstairs tot he kitchen. She was trapped in this horrible house for another night, she thought irritably, making herself a mug of hot chocolate, stirring in too many marshmallows, then taking an experimental sip.  
Behind her the door swished open.

"You've got marshmallow on your chin." Christian said.

She glared at him. "Nice to see you too."

"I need a drink, something stronger than hot chocolate."

"How's Carrick?" She countered and realized to her surprise that she really wanted to know.

"Cranky as a bear in a cage. Coming home late tomorrow afternoon. Whose clothes are you wearing?"

"The ones that were left for me." She said.

The tights were too short and the T shirt too small. Trying very hard to keep his gaze above the level of her breasts which were exquisitely shaped, Christian opened the door of the refrigerator, took out a beer and uncapped it. Taking a long drought.

"Hospital food has to be the worst in the nation and their tap water tastes like pure chlorine." He said.

He'd dropped onto a stool by the counter and was loosening the collar of his shirt. He looked tired, she thought reluctantly, watching the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed.  
His shirt clung to the breadth of his shoulders. As he moved smoothly under his skin. Moved erotically, Ana thought and buried her nose in her mug. What was wrong with her? She never noticed the way a man moved.  
The silence had stretched on too long.

"Is it still raining?" she said politely.

"Supposed to stop tomorrow morning, What did you do all day?" He took another gulp of beer.

"Read in the library."

"Right up your alley," he said with a faint smile.

One smile that was all. No reason for her to feel as though he'd given her the sun, the moon and the stars. The man had charm to burn, she thought crossly.  
She'd always considered charm a slippery attribute at best. Picking up her mug to drain the last of the hot chocolate from it.

"If you're not able to drive me home tomorrow morning I'm sure there's a chauffeur hidden away in this barn of a house, I'll get him to drive me...Goodnight" she said tautly.

"Wait a minute!"

Furious, she glanced down. His fingers those elegant fingers were clamped around her left wrist.

"Let go, I'm not in the mood for macho." she flared.

"Carrick won't be home until the afternoon and he wants to meet you, so you can't go back before that. And when you meet him don't say anything to upset him. He is to be kept quiet for the next while and he's not supposed to worry about anything."

"You told him I was here? That I'd meet him?" she said, her voice raising.

"Of course I did. Why else are you here?"

"How was I supposed to leave? I don't have a car, there's no bus back to the island and I don't like hitchhiking in a downpour."

Christian stood up, still clasping her wrist.

"You'll meet him Anastasia. You don't have to throw your arms around him. But by god you'll be polite."

"Is this your CEO act? Well whoop-de-doo." she snapped.

Her eyes were like green fire. Not stopping to think Christian dropped his head and kissed her, hard and fast and with all the pent up emotion of the last two days. hen he stepped back. His heart slamming in his chest.

"I've been wanting to do that ever since I saw you jogging on the beach," he snarled. "you be around when Carrick comes home and watch what you say. If you're half the person the islanders say you are you wouldn't want an old man's death on your conscience."

His kiss so unexpected, so forceful had seared through her like a bolt of lightning. Her adrenaline sky high any caution lost in rage. Ana wrenched her wrist free and blazed.

"You're the one that brought me here, what about your conscience?"

"My conscience is my concern, Just behave yourself tomorrow."

"Don't tell me how to behave, I'm twenty two not ten." Ana retorted, itching to throw her empty mug in his face.

Banging it on the counter instead, she pivoted to leave the room.  
Like a steel clamp Christians hand closed around her shoulder.

"I'm not only telling you how to behave, I expect to behave, I expect to be obeyed. Have you got that straight?"

"I'm not an employee you can fire when the whim takes you!"

"No, you're Carrick's grand daughter." he said in a voice like ice.

Then with a deliberation that was subtly insulting he released her and stepped back.

Was she really related to the old man she'd seen in the hospital? Or was this whole setup as unreliable as a bad dream? Unable to think of a thing to say, as furious as she was with Christian. Ana marched out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster. As she raced up the stairs she realized she was scrubbing at her mouth doing her best to erase a kiss that had been shattering in it's heat, its anger and its demands.  
No wonder her words had deserted her. No wonder she was on the run.

Once again, she locked her bedroom door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey there my lovely readers. I thought I would surprise you all with another chapter today.**

 **I normally do two on one day but here is a third for your enjoyment. Let me know what you think by leaving a review. =]**

Chapter Seven:

By the time the rain stopped the next day, an hour after lunch Ana was in a foul mood. She'd go mad if she didn't get some exercise.  
She'd always hated being confined.  
While Grey Inc must be worth a mint, she wouldn't trade it for her cabin for all the money in the world. But would Christian believe her if she told him that? Somehow she doubted it.  
She slipped out the front door. The air was filled with the sea, breathing deep she set off down a narrow path that she hoped would lead her to the ocean.  
The path ended at a secluded cove ringed by rocks, where the water sparkled and danced, Riffling onto a pale sand beach.  
Quickly she shucked off her borrowed sandals, and dipped her toe in. Cold, yes, but not unbearably so. She looked around.  
No one in sight and Christian wouldn't be back until late afternoon.  
Like the mischievous little girl she'd never been allowed to be, Ana stripped to her underwear and, giggling breathlessly ran into the water. In a mighty splash she flopped forward and thrashed toward the rocks.

She'd learned to swim at a local pool the year she'd spent in Boston as a housekeeper, her strokes were strong, if not particularly stylish. The exercise warmed her, and all the kinks physical and emotional of the last forty eight hours washed away.  
Heaven she thought, turning on her back and floating so she could gaze into the guileless blue sky.

Christian settled Carrick in the master suite promising to bring Ana to meet him in an hour or so, He went then in search for her.  
He drew a blank in the library, the dining room, the solarium and her bedroom. Her black dress was still hanging in the closet so she couldn't have left.  
The beach, he thought. That's where she'd go. Unless she'd left altogether, she hadn't liked his ultimatum or his CEO act and he wouldn't put it past her to start walking the highway toward the island. He hoped to god she wouldn't hitchhike even on the back roads that wasn't a good idea.  
If she wasn't at the shore, where would he look next?  
He hurried to his room, changed into running gear and took off down the path. Wet leaves brushed his bare arms and it was unseasonably warm. He was sweating by the time he emerged onto the beach.  
A little heap of clothes lay on the sand and the beach was deserted. Christian jolted to a stop and scanned the surf, his pulse pounded in his ears.

Where the hell was she?  
Then he caught sight of a wet head, sleek as a seal's out by the rocks. Ana. She was cavorting in the waves, diving, splashing and kicking. His relief was instantly engulfed in anger.  
He yelled her name. Her head swiveled. She waved at him and even from a distance he could see she was laughing.  
Anger notched up to sheer fury.  
He ran the length of the beach, his sneakers sinking into the sand. Then. with ferocious speed he leaped from rock to rock along the long outcrop of granite. When he was level with her he shouted.

"Come closer I will lift you out."

Treading water she gazed at him.

"I'll swim back to the beach and meet you there."

"Do as you're told, or so help me I'll jump in and haul you out."

A wave sloshed over her bare shoulders. Laughing with delight she shouted to him again.

"It's a gorgeous day! Why are you so angry?"

"Because you could have easily drowned in the undertow why do you think I am angry?"

Ana's mouth dropped open. What a ridiculous time to realize that while she had always been petrified of Elliot's rages, Christians anger didn't frighten her at all. It challenged her instead, invigorating her. What did that mean?  
As another wave slopped up her chin she swallowed a mouth of saltwater. Choking and sputtering her brain grappling with this latest twist. She edged toward the rock and waited for a gap in the surf. Then she reached up for Christians outstretched hands.  
With insulting ease he lifted her from the water. She found her footing on the rough granite and shook her head like a dog.

"You should have come in the water's great." she said wickedly.  
She was wearing nothing but a skimpy black bra and black bikini underwear. Her image burned into Christians brain, the thrust of her breasts, her waist's delicate concavity. The flare of hip. Like a peregrine plummeting to its prey, he took her in his arms and found her mouth. Her lips were cold and wet, tasting of salt as he drank her deep. He wasn't so angry that he didn't sense the sudden rigidity of her body and her lack of response.  
From somewhere deep within he dredged up the willpower to restrain his kiss, seeking rather than demanding, giving rather than taking and was rewarded when he felt her hands creep up his chest and her body grow plaint. Her first shy response rocketed his heartbeat. He fought for control, nibbling on her lower lip, his tongue seeking out heated warmth of her mouth. With the same trust, the same hesitancy she opened to him.  
God how he wanted her.

He pulled her slender frame the length of his, the fit perfect, the cold nubs of her breasts through her bra further inflaming him. Her hands crept around his neck, her fingers digging into his scalp, the tentative touch of her tongue ripped through him.  
Fiercely he traced the long curve of her spine, then circled her naked hips, drawing her into the hardness of his arousal.  
Ana shuddered, fear ripping through her, banishing an exploration that had totally beguiled her. She pulled her mouth free and had neither the will nor the strength to mask the turmoil of emotion that was tearing her apart.

"Don't be frightened, yes I want you. No talking about that. But I won't hurt you, I swear I won't" Christian said urgently. "Ana, you wanted me as much as I wanted you."

She could scarcely deny it. Fighting for control she said.

"If I'm to meet Carrick this afternoon there's a condition attached you must not touch me again. Or kiss me. Do you promise?"

"No"

her lashes flickered. They were wet, he noticed.

"The only promise I am prepared to make is that I'll never do anything against your will." he said.

"That's downright manipulative!"

"Is it? Think about it."

She was chewing her bottom lip. The slope of her shoulders, the delicate flare of her collarbone, juddered through him.

"we better go back, didn't anyone tell you not to swim alone? This is the ocean, not some suburban swimming pool." He said curtly.

"I couldn't stand being caged up in that house for one minute longer!"

"You were a fool to take such a risk." he said in a clipped voice. Bending he gathered her in his arms.  
Ana gave a gasp of dismay. One moment she'd been standing on her own two feet and now she was cheek to chest with the man who was undermining her whole sense of identity.

"Put me down" She said in a smothered voice.

But Christian had started back toward the beach, treading carefully over the heaped boulders.

"The granite is rough and your feet are bare."

Not up for discussion, that's what he meant. His arm beneath her bare thigh was hard as rock, against her rib cage she could feel the strong steady beat of his heart, an astonishing intimacy that streaked through her veins like wildfire. How could she feel so threatened by him yet so safe at the same time.  
She closed her eyes biting her lip to keep the question unspoken. When they reached the beach, Christian placed her down on the sand next to her clothes.

"Put them on, I'll find you something dry when we get to the house."

Yanking the tights up her wet legs.

"You weren't supposed to get home until later." She said peevishly.

"The hospital couldn't wait to get rid of Carrick. He's home resting. We'll visit him once you are cleaned up." He gave a mirthless smile.

"I'm not going to meet him wearing a shirt that's two sizes too small."

"Guess it'll have to be the little black dress then. Or one of my shirts which will be four sizes too big." Christian grinned with an aggressive flash of white teeth.

She tugged her borrowed shirt over her head noticing with dismay how her nipples were faithfully outlined under the thin fabric. With a sigh she shoved her toes into her sandals. Meeting her alleged grandfather couldn't be nearly as challenging as keeping one step ahead of Christian Grey.

An hour later, Ana was ready. She was overdressed, she thought, and decided to do without earrings and to leave her hair loose around her face. Her sweater draped over her black dress, she went in search of Christian and found him waiting for her in the solarium. It was the only room in the house which she felt even slightly at home, with its massed ferns and semi tropical plants.  
Christian swept her from head to toe in a single glance. She was nervous, he thought and doing her best to hide it.

"Let's get this over with." he said.

"I'm not scared of Carrick Grey." She tossed her head.

"Good." Christian said blandly.

He tucked her arm in his, her fingers were as cold as when he'd pulled her from the ocean. His jaw tight, unable to think of anything to say, he led her out of the room.  
Carrick Grey sitting up in a vast iron bed, the sunlight full on his face. Ana stopped dead in her tracks making a tiny shocked sound.  
His eyes were the same true deep green as hers.  
He really was her grandfather. He had to be. Only now did she realize that, deep down she'd never fully believed Christians story.

Carrick she noticed, looked every bit shocked as she felt.

"So you inherited the Grey eyes, They skipped Elliot. As did so much else." He said gruffly patting the white bed spread. "Come closer girl. Let me look at you."

Like a robot she walked nearer to the bed, and watched him take in every detail of her appearance with those vivid green eyes.

"Let's get the apology out of the way first, I'm sorry the money I sent never reached you. I should have known Elliot would take it but your mother...Guess I expected better of her." He said brusquely.

"Apology accepted." Ana blinked.

"I owe you girl I'm..."

"My names Anastasia, but you can call me Ana." She said.

"So you've got claws. Good. Never did like females to be doormats for a feller to wipe his feet on." Carrick cleared his throat. "Like I said I owe you, You'll live here in the summers and in Manhattan in my penthouse the rest of the year. I'll arrange for a monthly allowance starting tomorrow. You can travel, go to college and do what you like. And when I pop off, which at this rate could be any day you'll inherit a big whack of money."

Battling a mixture of outrage and amusement. Ana said "I don't think you're going to pop off, you wouldn't be able to call the shots if you did."

"Can't call 'em with Christian. Learned that a long time ago. Might as well try my hand with you." he gave a surprised bark of laughter.

"What if I am as contrary as Christian?"

"All that money? Don't make me laugh."

"Surely I'm the one who should be laughing all the way to the bank."

"I owe you." he repeated stubbornly.

"You don't owe me anything!"

From behind, Christian kicked her ankle with the toe of his shoe.

"I'll think about everything you have said Mr Grey, it's a very generous offer. By the way your beach is beautiful." Ana said cooly.

"Not bad. Get whales offshore all summer. You can go back to the island later today, quit your job, pack your stuff and move up here. I usually head for the city mid October."

Stubborn. Carrick most certainly was. But underneath the bluster the old man was exhausted. Ana realized with a pang of compassion. Not that he'd ever admit it. Hadn't she inherited the same will to survive, the same stiff necked pride, without them she might have gone under years ago.  
Impulsively she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

I'm glad we've met...I'll talk to you later." Then without looking at Christian she walked out of the room.

Moments Christian joined her, closing the door quietly behind him.

"We'll go back to the solarium." he said.

It was a good a place as any. When they reached it. Ana stationed herself against a magnificent hibiscus in full bloom, and said with a calmness she was far from feeling.

"I understand now why you reacted to the color of my eyes."

"No DNA tests required." he said dryly.

"None are needed anyway, I'm turning down Carrick's offer."

As Christians breath escaped in an angry hiss.

"Hear me out Christian. And do your best to see where I'm coming from." she said passionately.

"Okay, I'm listening." He said jamming his hands in his pockets.

She paused trying to marshal her thoughts. "First, I don't need a grandfather who would serve as a constant reminder of my father. I told you I disliked Elliot. The truth is, I loathed him, he never saw me as anything but an impediment and inconvenience."

"You were afraid of him." Christian said intutivley.

"Maybe I was, But that's not your concern." She said in a brittle voice.

"Why were you afraid of him?"

Ignoring a question she had no intention of answering.

"as for Carrick's money, it would stifle me. I'm financially independent, in debt to no one, with a job I like and my own place to live. I'm not giving that up to move to this house, it's to formal and I hate tripped over servants all the time. It'd be like living in a velvet upholstered cage!"

"You want to control your own life."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Why not try and compromise instead of control? You're not giving him a chance."

"It's my life. He might think he owes me but I don't owe him anything. Can't you understand? He's nothing to me. Nothing!"

"Who are you trying to convince? Yourself?"

"You but you aren't listening."

"My problem is, I'm listening to both of you, you and Carrick. let me tell you something. I own a house a couple of miles down the road, and you can stay there in the summers, use the place as if it's your own. I'm often away. You'd be close enough to Carrick, yet preserve your independence." Christians eyes narrowed.

"What's the point? I'd only be substituting one cage for another."

"My house is very different to this one, modern, full of light and open to the ocean, you'd like it. I know you would. It's my favorite. I have to admit."

"Favorite? You own other houses?"

"Sure, a brownstone in Manhattan. A chateau in the Loire, A lodge at the vineyard in south Australia."

"Just how rich are you Christian?" The question was out before she could censor it.

He named a number and watched her jaw drop.

"I was a computer whiz when I was a kid, Made a bundle early, invested it and haven't stopped since. I took over Grey Inc from Carrick seven years ago when he turned sixty five and I've expanded it considerably. Your inheritance from Carrick won't come close to my net worth, but it'll be sizable just the same." his smile was sardonic.

"I hate when you talk that way." Ana gave a sudden shiver.

"Do you? Do you really?"

She walked over to the window, without answering him staring out at the formal gardens, her fingers pleating and repleting the black fabric on her dress. Christian followed her, his gaze fastened on her face. She was thinking, he decided and thinking hard. Which was of course an all to natural reaction. Money the amount he mentioned would give a saint cause to think, and Ana being a women was by definition no saint. Besides she was dirt poor.  
So what if he was a cynic? he'd had plenty of cause to become on in the last several years.

"Why did you tell me how rich you are?" Ana said so quietly Christian had to strain to hear it.

"You did ask me and isn't it better to get it out in the open?"

"So much money." She breathed, resting her forehead on the glass pane and closing her eyes.

So she'd succumbed. Christian thought. And why not? Money was an extraordinarily potent weapon. Money, in the circles in which he moved, was the equivalent to power.  
He should know  
He raked his fingers through his hair, disconcertingly a big part of him wished Ana had held out. That she was different from all the other women he'd met.

How silly was that? 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight:

Slowly Ana straightened, turning around to face Christian, the leaves of the hibiscus brushing her arm. End this whole charade now, she thought before it's too late. She opened her mouth to speak, with no idea how she was going to end anything.  
The late sun was firing her hair with gold.

"As the Grey heiress, there are things you'll need to know. We have a lot of ground to cover. We'll start by touring the headquarters of Grey Inc in Manhattan, hen move to it's international holdings. It'd be best to visit them one by one. Nothing like seeing a setup in person and talking with the employees to get a grasp on the way things operate." Christian said moving smoothly into the next phase of his strategy.

Her face pale, Ana pushed away from the window ledge.

"Are you crazy? I'm not..." she croaked.

"No wealth without social responsibility and intelligent understanding that's Carrick's credo, and it's one I endorse. The chateau on the Lorie that I mentioned, we'll go there after New York. Then we'll stay in the Grey hotel in Venice that will show you another part of the operation. After that there's the thoroughbred farm in Kentucky, our oil holdings in Venezuela and the vineyards near Adelaide." He said.

She was gaping at him, temporarily speechless. Good thing she couldn't read his mind Christian thought.  
The prospect of traveling around the world with her necessary though it was appalled him. How was he going to keep his hands off her? Or get a decent night's sleep, knowing she was on the other side of the wall.  
Seducing Anastasia Steele wasn't part of his plan, it would be neither responsible nor intelligent.

"You have to be educated to your new position it's important you take your rightful place in Carrick's world, and be comfortable in it. Afterward you can be as proactive in Grey Inc as you wish. This plan by the way has Carrick's blessing." He went on.

"You talked it over with him?" Ana said with the calm of extreme rage.

"Of course. At the hospital today while we were waiting for him to be discharged."

"I guess the first step rather than Manhattan should be proper haircut and some decent clothes." Christian stepped closer, tweaking a strand of her hair. Of its own violation, his hand strayed to her cheek, stroking the silken sweep of her skin, lingering there.  
His loins tightened.

"I'm not going to Manhattan or Venice. I'm not going anywhere with you." She struck his hand away.

"The haircut and the clothes, enough clothes to start with, anyway we can deal with those in Camberley."

Camberley was a nearby shopping area patronized by the very rich.

"If I'm not going with you, I don't need to go to Camberley. I have a job waiting for me, they're expecting me to show up tomorrow morning at nine. If you won't drive me back to the island I'll call a cab and go on my own." Ana seethed.

"You're job isn't waiting for you, I phoned yesterday and arranged for an extended leave of absence."

"You phoned them? Behind my back without even telling me?"

"There was no point in telling you, you'd have raised the roof."

Christian was standing between her and the door. Ana put a hand on his chest, pushing him as hard as she could and was further infuriated when he didn't move an inch.

"Where's the nearest phone? It'll be the shortest leave of absence on record." she demanded.

He dropped his hands to her shoulders, his nails digging into her skin.

"Stop being so childish."

Her eyes like green pools of fire.

"You think you can buy me? Wave a million dollars in front of me and I'll meekly fall into line? Somethings can't be bought, Christian Grey, and my freedom is not one of them. Now get out of my way!" she spat.

"I never thought you were a coward." he said.

"Coward? Because I'm not genuflecting to you and your precious money?"

"Because you're turning your back on the chance to make something of yourself, You've got a two bit job on an insignificant island and you live in a fish shack. Is that what you want for the rest of your life?" He retorted, his voice like a whiplash.

"I'm twenty two Christian, not sixty."

"You're turning your back on world travel. On gaining insider information about one of the largest international corporations in existence. On the opportunity to further your education anywhere in the field you want. Yeah. You're a coward. A coward and a fool."

White faced with rage she seethed.

"I'm neither one. I'm a survivor who's lived in places you've never dreamed of. I don't need you. Your money or or fancy international connections. Or your ivory tower existence, what do you know about the real world? You're totally insulated from it!"

He knew a great deal about the real world, knowledge that have been hard earned. Not that he was going to tell her that.  
Somethings he'd learned long ago to keep to himself.  
Cutting to the chase with the speed of a predator.

"You never went to university, am I right?" He said.

"You have a genius for finding my weak points." her shoulders slumped and she said with honesty of despair. "I've never even finished high school, the only reason I got the job at the library was that they were desperate."

"You'd like more education wouldn't you?"

"Of course but I have my living to earn."

"No, you don't, Carrick is giving you an allowance. That's the whole point."

"A kept woman." she said bitterly.

"Stop wallowing in cliches, you're far too intelligent for that. Fact number one, you're Carrick's grand daughter. Fact number two, he's a very rich man who wants to make amends for the past. Fact number three, his health's not great and he mustn't be stressed. It wouldn't hurt you to go along with him for now and it sure as hell could benefit you."

He made it sound so easy, so logical. Yet panic was engulfing Ana at the mere thought of leaving the life that she'd carefully and painstakingly fashioned for herself.

"I don't want to leave the island, I'm afraid to." she cried.

There. She said it.

"I know you are, that's where the courage comes in." Christian said straightforwardly.

And somehow in the midst of it all she noticed a twinge of respect that he wasn't offering her empty sympathy.

"We'll start small, the haircut and the clothes first, then we'll go from there. One step at a time." he added.

"what's in it for you?" she said slowly.

An opportunity to test my will power he thought crazily.  
To practice celibacy in the company of a women who drives me and my hormones up the wall.

"I'm doing it for Carrick." He said and knew he was skirting the borders of the truth.

"Why does everything have to be so complicated?" Ana wrapped her arms around her chest.

"Because simplicity is boring?"

"You're not boring."

"Neither are you." Christian said with such vehemence that Ana's mouth twitched in an involuntary smile.

"By the time you've done shepherding me around the world, you'll be bored out of your skull." She said.

"I wouldn't count on it." he said grimly, brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm with a sensual pleasure that melted every bone in her body.

Hot color flooded her cheeks. She snatched her hand back.

"When you act like that, I want to run in the opposite direction!"

"You can't, it's too late to run away."

He was right, although she couldn't have said at what point it had become too late.

"So I'm cornered, Carrick mustn't be upset or worried, guess I can't march into his room and tell him I'm heading back to the island on the first ferry, can I? You've manipulated me from the very beginning, Christian congratulations." She retorted.

"We'll go shopping tomorrow, then head for Manhattan the day after. In the meantime, I have work to do in my office here. See you later." he said evenly.

The door to the solarium closed behind him. Ana sat down hard in the nearest chair and kicked off her shoes. Camberley. Manhattan. France and Venice. With Christian.

The die was cast. And her predominant emotion was heaven help her excitement.


	9. Chapter 9

**SURPRISE! Another chapter =] I know some of you are wondering why Ana is the way she is and it will get explained. Trust me the story will be worth the read =] There are still quite a few chapters still just bare with me =] I hope you like it. Let me know what you think in the reviews =]**

Chapter Nine:

Swathed in a purple cape, Ana gazed at herself in the mirror Pierre, the stylist, lifted one long strand of her hair and scrutinized the ends. With a theatrical shudder he demanded,

"Who cut your hair?"

"I did, with kitchen scissors." she said.

He struck his forehead with the back of his hand. "What brand of conditioner?"

"None."

"Madame, you have come to the right place and only just in time. We will get to work." he said as he bundled her hair back from her face.

An hour and a half later, Ana was again gazing at herself in the mirror.

"That's me?" she croaked.

"Yes and you shall come back in six weeks not a day later." Pierre said grandly.

But Ana wasn't listening. Pierre had cut off great chunks of her hair so now it framed her face in soft curls.  
Experimentally she tossed her head, feeling light and somehow free. All the weight gone.  
Without any false vanity, she knew she looked astoundingly beautiful, as though her features had come into their own.  
Perhaps, she thought slowly, she'd been hiding behind her mass of hair and now she was standing in the open.  
Exposed.  
Christian had accused her of cowardice, She tilted her chin knowing that he had her all wrong.

"Thank you Pierre." she said.

"You were a challange mon plaaisir madame." Pierre gave a satisfied smile.

Christian was waiting for her outside, Ana remembered. Christian who from the beginning had found her beautiful. Feeling absurdly shy, Ana walked out into the sunshine.

Christian had browsed the local bookstore and was leaning against the car, trying to keep his attention on the book he had bought. He couldn't. His mind persisted in wandering, and everywhere it went it came up against a chestnut haired women with a mind of her own.  
Either Anastasia Steele was a brilliant actor, or she really didn't want Carrick's money. Or his.  
Considering the amount of time he and Ana had spent together, he knew very little about her. Acting could well be one of her major talents.  
Could he trust her? Hadn't he be burned too many times by women who'd wanted him solely for himself so they'd claimed, only to demand financial recompense when he'd ended the affair? Not one of them had been able to separate him from his money, or value him for himself.  
Poor little rich guy, he thought ironically. Self pity had never, in his opinion been an admirable trait. But just once he'd like to be seen as a man, not as a walking bank account.  
Then something caused him to look up.

Ana was coming down the salon steps toward him. His heartbeat stuttered in his chest. He pushed away from the car, watching her until she was standing only five feet from him.  
Bravado masking shyness, he thought and shoved down a totally unwanted flick of respect.

"I've already told you you're beautiful, So now what do I say." he said flatly.

She blushed. "If I ever cut my hair again with kitchen scissors Pierre will hunt me down. I was a challenge, or so he said."

"He and I are in total agreement. You are, very definitely a challenge."

"The head of Grey Inc. challenged by a women who lives in a fish shack? It's the other way around Christian." she said incredulously.

"Is it why?"

"Clothes are the next in step in your plan, not interrogation." she scowled at him, if he wanted to see her then he was going to see it.

She was right, of course. He wasn't just interested in the way her body looked but also the way her mind worked. She was far to intelligent she just didn't show it.

"The boutique's one block down the street, shall we go?" he said and mockingly crooked his elbow.

With the sense she was doing something of enormous consequence, Ana rested her hand on his arm.

"If you pay for my clothes, it'll be all over the town that I'll your mistress, or don't you care?" she said provocatively, adjusting her stride to him.

"I've let it be known that Carrick's grand daughter, who's been living in Europe is here for a visit, I prefer gossip to be at least minimally accurate." He glanced down at her. "Would you like to be my mistress?"

"No!"

"Probably just as well, seeing as I haven't asked you."

She dropped his arm as if it was scalding her, the rosebushes that lined the entrance to the boutique brushing against her legs.

"Goo because it's not who I want to be." she stormed inside leaving him with his jaw to the floor.  
She was primed for a fight and knew it was better to walk away then get into it on the side of the road.

"Can I help you?" A middle aged women walked towards her "You must be Anastasia Steele. I've been looking forward to meeting."

With a swift glance the women was beautiful and she sure didn't feel like she fit in here at all. The women walked over to the door and switched the Open sign to closed and drew the gauze curtain.

"Lets have some fun."

Linen, leather, fine wood, silk, slacks, bras, shoes, earrings, casual, semi formal, elegant and always in a mirror a women who was stranger to Ana. A women who bore little resemblance to a small town librarian on a coastal island.

At the end when the lady was adding up the bill, Ana said.

"I'll be paying for the first 4900." she knew to a penny the amount in her savings account, she was leaving enough money to fly back from Adelaide should she need to.

"Christian didn't say anything about you paying for anything." she said

"Christian Grey is much to used to getting his own way," Ana held out her credit card. "The first 4900"

"He's in for a shock with you."

"It'll be good for him."

Ana signed the receipt and gave the women a quick hug.

"Thank you so much."

"My pleasure. I'll make sure everything is delivered to you later today. Have fun on your travels. Ana I mean that."

"I'll do my best," Ana said smiling, and walked back outside.

Her pumps were Italian leather, her hose silk. Her underwear was also silk, edged with the finest of lace. Her suit with its cheeky little flared skirt and neat fitting jacket, was cerise linen, teamed with a cream silk blouse her earrings were simple gold hoops. With new confidence in her stop, Ana crossed the road and saw Christian walking down a side street toward her.

She met him partway, flipped her new Chanel dark glasses up into her hair, and passed him the bill.

"I cost you plenty, I really liked her by the way." she said.

"Not as much as I'd expected." He flicked down the bill.

"That's because I paid the first $900, that was I'm only a partially kept women." Ana said calmly.

"You can't afford to do that."

"You let me decide what I can and can't afford thank you." she said and she knew she was talking about far more then clothes.

"Sometimes I will, and sometimes I won't" he replied with dangerous softness.

"Then you'll keep me on my toes, won't you?" she said looking down at her new shoes.

"While I was waiting, I arranged our flights to Manhattan and Paris."

She couldn't help but get angry.

"You said one step at a time! That's two steps. Don't push your luck Christian."

"You're the most contentious women I've ever met." A muscle twitched in his jaw.

"Flexibility in the face of opposition is a sign of maturity." she remarked.

The sea wind was gently flipping her skirt, exposing even more of those glorious long legs. For wasn't she like a flower. Christian thought, colorful, graceful, burnished with sunlight? Flowers are for picking a voice said in his head.  
Not this flower.  
So now you're a coward Christian?  
With an incoherent exclamation compounded of frustration, lust and fury. Christian put his arms around Ana, pulled her to his body and plunged for her mouth. In sheer shock she opened to him. He thrust his tongue in an assault as unsubtle as it was steeped in raw hunger.  
More hunger slammed through him, his heart like a piston in his chest, his loins hard with primitive need.

Her scent, her softness shafted his body with lethal speed.  
He was lost...  
He wasn't lost he was on the main street of Camberley ravishing Carrick's grand daughter in full day light. As though someone had thrown cold water in his face, Christian wrenched his head free.  
And met a pair of wild held green eyes, turbulent with emotions he couldn't begin to guess. Patches of colors rode high in Ana's cheeks. Her shoulders were ridged in his grip.

"If I was smart, I'd head for Manhattan on my own on the first plane." Christian said choppily.

"Go right ahead," she snapped.

"No way, I never back down from a challenge, It would ruin my reputation." he gave her a wolfish grin.

His answer wasn't in any way reassuring. Ana gazed up at him blankly, her breath lodged somewhere in her throat. and her knees on the point of collapse. she was also, she realized distantly, trembling. The desire that had streaked through her veins from Christians kiss was indeed her enemy, it's sole aim to drive her into intimacy with a man who screamed danger from every pore.  
For if his kiss had been passionate, it had also been passionately angry.  
Intimacy? The word was as much a stranger to her as the man. Yet she agreed to traipse around four continents with him in the next few weeks.  
She was out of her mind.

"i can always run away Christian. And I will if you push me too far." She said.

"I can always bring you back."

"I am good at vanishing, I've had lots of practice you might want to remember that." she said with a serious tone he had never heard before.

Even now knowing he'd just made a major mistake in judgment lust blinding him to any remnant of reason Christian had to fight the urge to seize her in his arms and kiss hr again. He'd never felt so out of control, so at the mercy of a women's body. Although that's all it was, a body. Dammit, the only thing he was feeling was the basic attraction between make and female.  
Lust. Chemistry. Testosterone.  
Nothing else.  
And that's the way it was going to stay.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey there lovely readers. I am so sorry that it has been a while since my last update. I had a few things come up and I didn't have any time to get a chapter out. I will be updating a few today =] So I hope you like them.**

Chapter Ten:

Sixteen minutes later, Christian pulled to a halt outside the mansion. He reached for a leather briefcase in the back seat, opened it and said.

"I might as well give you this stuff now, Ana."

He handed her some papers, a checkbook and a credit card.

"Everything's been set up in your name. This is the balance in the account, and this amount will be added on the first of every month. Oh and here's the limit on the credit card."

Ana sat still, gazed at the numbers that scarcely seemed real. Once again, the ground had shifted under her feet.

"That's far too much," she said.

"You'll get used to it." he replied cynically.

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. Who's money is it?"

"Carrick's, I'm just the messenger."

Just wasn't a word that applied to Christian Grey, she thought drumming her fingers on her knee.

"Do you know how I feel? As though you're robbing me of everything I cherish, my solitude and independence, my job, my little house, my freedom. And you've got the gall to substitute money in their place, all to prevent an arrogant old man from getting upset." she said tightly as she riffled through the blank cheques.

Are you for real about the money, Christian thought. He looked at her in silence. She gave every impression of speaking from the heart and along with the distrust that was his constant companion, felt a flicker of remorse. How long since anyone had caused him to question his motives, or to see firsthand the results of his own actions.  
It's for her own good...while this as true enough, maybe she deserved better of him. But his mind remained stubbornly blank of alternatives, the silence stretching in front of him like a sun baked desert.  
In sudden impatience, Ana ran her fingers through her hair.

"I don't know why I thought you'd understand. Silly of me but when it's all said and done, I agreed to this charade, didn't I? Let's go and see Carrick and get it over with."

"Not until you've calmed down."

"Don't worry, I'll behave myself. In my fancy clothes and my expensive new shoes." she said bitterly.

He pounced. "Why are you embarking on this charade, as you call it. What's the real reason?"

Ana bit her lip, he couldn't have asked a more difficult question. "I haven't figured that out yet." she said evasively.

"When you do, let me know won't you?" he said nastily.

"Maybe. Maybe not. My reasons might be private." she tilted her chin.

"I'm sure they are and with good reason."

"You persist in suspecting me of the worst!" she yelled.

She was right. He did. With impersonal briskness Christian said, "We'd better go visit Carrick, he needs to settle down early, and we're leaving first thing in the morning. So this is your only chance to say goodbye to him."

If only she had a weapon, any weapon that would force Christian to see her as she really was. That would make even a minimal impression on him. But the prospect was laughable.  
The mighty Christian Grey had a hide as tough as his leather briefcase. Ana preceded him into the house and up the stairs, carrying the sheaf of papers under her arm.

Carrick's bedroom door was open. The old man was sitting in an armchair that overlooked the blue waters of the cove although his face was turned away, there was both sadness and frustration in his bearing. Pity sliced through her. He was a widower who'd lost a beloved wife and during the last few weeks, he'd been exiled from health and vigor.

Tapping on the door to give him a moment to recover.

"This is the new me. Do you need an introduction?" She said lightly.

Stiffly Carrick turned his head, his eyes widened. "You remind me of Grace, my wife she was a beauty, stole my breath from my body until the day she died."

More moved then she cared to admit, Ana said softly, "Thank you, Mr Grey. That's a lovely thing to say."

"What do you plan to call me girl? Because you can drop the Mr Grey crap."

"I'll call you Carrick if you'll quit calling me girl."

"Done deal. So you're off to Manhattan tomorrow." He gave a bark of laughter.

"Yes although I reserve the right at any time to go home to the island." She said.

"Christian better make damn sure you don't."

"It may not be up to Christian, I have a mind of my own."

"So does Christian," Carrick said with a fierce grin.

"Then may be the better man or women win." Ana said, tossing her head.

"If you two have finished squaring off like a couple of roosters, I've got work to do." Christian said.

But Ana wasn't finished. Indicating the sheaf of papers under her arm she said awkwardly.

"Thank you for this, Carrick you've been extremely generous and I promise I won't waste your money."

"Have fun with it, Reckon there hasn't been much fun in your life up to now." Carrick said gruffly.

"I will," Quickly Ana stepped closer, kissed is wrinkled cheek and whispered in his ear, "Thanks Gramps."

His snort of delighted laughter followed her out of the room, Christian was close on her heels. When they were out of earshot of the bedroom, he grated, "You've got him eating out of your hand already, well done Anastasia."

"You don't want him upset but when I'm nice to him, you don't like that either. What's your problem?" She whirled in a flare of skirts.

For my whole life I've wanted something Carrick wouldn't give me...yet already he's giving it to you. Christian thought.  
Christian sure wasn't going to say that. But his brain, his much vaunted brain wouldn't come up with anything else. Action. That's what he needed. He grabbed her around the waist, pulled her toward him and kissed her hard on the lips. She kicked out at him. Ignoring the sharp pain in his shin , he deepened the kiss, demanding from her different response, calling on all his considerable skills to evoke it.

Ana surrendered suddenly, generously and completely for what other choice did she have? Her body was melting in his embrace, and of their own accord her arms wound themselves around his neck, her fingers digging into his scalp. It was a kiss she wanted to end.

Her mouth, that exquisite mouth, melded with Christian's in a way that drove him to the brink. He was steeped in her. Scorched by her. If he didn't have her, he'd explode.  
His tongue laced hers. His hands pushed aside the lapels of her jacket, finding, under the silken fabric, the warm swell of her breast. Her shudder of response rocketed through him. Her nipple had hardened, her body arching into his until there was nothing in the world but this women, so willing, so achingly desirable.

He was ravishing her not thirty feet from Carrick's bedroom door.  
With a muffled sound of self-disgust, Christian thrust her away.

"I don't know what happens to me when I'm around you. My brain's go in reverse." He snarled.

She was trembling, he saw renewed fury. Her lips were swollen from his kiss, her eyes dazed.

"You can't do that to me! Kiss me as though I'm the only women in the world and then shove me away as if I revolt you." she cried.

Nothing could be further from the truth, that much Christian knew. But how much easier it would be if Ana believed he was only toying with her.

"I'll do what I want," he said, and watched her quiver as if he'd struck her.

"You hate me." she whispered, recoiling.

"I hate what you do to me."

"Yet we are supposed to travel together?"

His own question, precisely. One that had haunted him the last two nights.

"You know what the problem is? I need to find myself a women. One who knows the score." he said with deliberate brutality.

Pain tore though her defenses. "So you're not really kissing me, anyone would do?"

"Not just anyone. She has to be beautiful, sophisticated and temporary. Too many stars in your eyes for my liking."

Her nostrils flared, even her hair seemed to spark with electricity.

"I'm not afraid of my feelings, if that's what you mean."

"Wearing your heart on your sleeve is plain stupid."

"Not having one is worse."

"That's..."

"Right now, I wouldn't kiss you if you were the last man in Manhattan. Your whole life's a lie, Christian. Going behind my back with my job, tricking me into protecting Carrick, manipulating me to suit your own ends. I don't hate you... I despise you!"

So he'd succeeded, Christian thought. She'd avoid him as much as was possible in the next few day. And he, heaven help him wouldn't lay as much as a finger on her.  
To his fury, there was an icy lump lodged in his gut.

"Be ready to leave at eight in the morning. I'll have Taylor bring some suitcases to your room." He said curtly.

Then he turned on his heel and marched down the hallway.  
Lust, that's all it was. Straightforward lust.  
Of an intensity and degree beyond his experience.


	11. Chapter 11

**Here's another one lovely readers. Let me know what you think.**

Chapter Eleven:

The next afternoon, Ana was waiting for Christian in the atrium of Grey Inc. Manhattan headquarters. Steel, glass and light, she thought, gazing upward at the soaring ceiling. Meant to impress, and succeeding brilliantly.  
Just as, against her better judgment, Christian had impressed her throughout the day. The empire over which he exercised control was vaster and more complex than she could possibly have imagined. Yet every detail was at his fingertips. Furthermore, his employees, from the cleaner on the fourth floor to the vice president on the eighteenth, clearly respected him responding to him with a warmth he must have earned.  
He couldn't have fooled everyone on eighteen floors could he?  
Okay so at work he wasn't just frighteningly intelligent and enormously efficient, he was also a charmer. He'd remembered that the cleaner had a new grandson. He'd inquired with real concern about the vice president's sick wife. He'd listened to a secretary's problem with her medical insurance, and acted on the spot to fix it.

He father had had charm. He'd turned it on and off like a kitchen tap.  
So was Christian a classic case of Jekyll and Hyde?  
After all, she had yet to meet any of his mistresses, the women who consorted with him after working hours. They might have a very different tale to tell than the cleaning lady.

She, Ana wouldn't be joining their ranks. She was too stary eyed, too unsophisticated. He was going to hook up with a women who knew the score.  
That would be just fine, Ana thought fiercely. She herself didn't do sex, and she avoided intimacy like the plague. Another women would get Christian, Dangerous Christian off her back and let her settle into her new role as the Grey protegee.  
She had no idea what that role would entail. A further loss of freedom? Or an opening to vistas she'd never dared imagine? Either way, the sooner Christian found himself a new mistress the better.  
Then, with a lurch of her heart, she saw him striding across the expanse of the marble floor toward her. Dark Grey business suit, silk tie, hait impeccably groomed. If only that were all. Add his height, his breadth of shoulder, the way he moved and add muscle toned to an animal grace. Add light and shadow falling across hard planes of his face, across unfathomable grey eyes and features that were infused with strength and character.  
The grand total was a magnetism so powerful that every women from the basement to the penthouse would flock to him.  
Including her? Was she fooling herself, big time?

Gritting her teeth, Ana stood her ground.

"Taylor is outside in the limo, he'll drive you home. We have tickets to the opera tonight, we'll eat before we go because we have another early start tomorrow and you look tired." Christian said with a chilling formality.

She was, But he didn't have to say so. He didn't look tired she thought petulantly. He looked like he could work a forty eight hour day and go to six operas.

"Oh wear a long gown, won't you?" he added.

"Yes Mr Grey."

"I hoped the tour would have taught you that I value initiative more then compliance." His eyes narrowed.

"Will there be a quiz?" she said naughtily.

"Stow it."

"Do your mistresses turn into paper dolls when you use that tone of voice?" she asked with genuine interest.

"You'll have to ask them. I'll be back before six."

Turning on his heel, he strode toward the elevators wishing that she was riding with him. Ana dragged her eyes away and hurried outside. Taylor drove her back to Christian's elegant hotel near central park.  
She let herself in, ran upstairs to her bedroom where they'd dropped her suitcases this morning, and tore off her classy pantsuit. Then she showered in the ultramodern bathroom with it's granite counters and heated towel rails, dressed causally in jeans and laid out on her bed one of the three evening gowns that she had chose. This one was a deep moss green and very becoming. She needed all the help she could get, for she was dreading an outing that would bring her face to face with Christians peers? or worse, with a women in his past?  
What would it be like to make love to Christian? To surrender herself to him, to be naked in his arms?

With a tiny sound of distress, she tossed the dress in the bed and started pacing. Christian liked bold colors, furniture with clean lines and modern art whose impact was visceral. She lingered in front of an array of photographs on the mantel in the living room, in particular one of a much younger Carrick with his arm around his beautiful wife. Christian perhaps nine or ten was standing on the other side of Carrick. Carrick, Ana thought in puzzlement, was making no effort to draw the boy into the photo, all Carrick's attention and certainly all his feelings were directed toward his wife.  
Already Christians eyes were full of secrets...  
Unexpectedly behind her, with the slightest of sounds a door swung on it's hinges. Ana grabbed a soapstone statue from the mantel, whirled in a blur of movement and crouched holding the statue like a weapon in front of her.

Christian was standing in the doorway.

Slowly Ana straightened, wishing the marble hearth would swallow her and the statue, wishing Christian to the eighteenth floor of Grey Inc.

"You startled me." She said inadequately.

He walked into the room, took the statue from her nerveless fingers, replaced it on the mantel then stepped back. Her reaction so swift, so practiced and had horrified him.

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm..."

"Your reaction when you heard the sound of the door, what kind of up bringing did you have?"

"That's got nothing..."

"Give it up, you were ready in an instant to defend yourself. To the death, by the look on your face. It's time to come clean...I need to know the facts. The places you've lived. Why you were so terrified the first time you met me."

"Give me one good reason why I should tell you anything! You don't like me. You don't even trust me, you think I'm after every cent you've ever made."

Christian gazed at the defiant flags of color in Ana's cheeks, scarcely hearing what she said, making no attempt to close the gap between them. Keep it that way, he told himself. Don't touch her no matter what you do. But damn well make sure you get some answers.

"You were afraid of your father, why? Did he abuse you?"

"I don't owe you an explanation." Ana backed up until the ledge was digging into her shoulders. Until she could retreat no further, she thought frantically, and like a cornered animal went on the attack.

"Why do you always call your father Carrick, and not dad?" she demanded and made a wild guess. "Because he didn't love you as a little boy?"

"That's none of your business." Christians jaw tightened, she had a talent for striking where he was more vulnerable.

"Not a bad reply, I'll use the same one."

A worthy opponent...where had those words come from?

"Maybe Carrick didn't welcome me into the family the way I would have liked. But he gave me a secure childhood, happier than most kids get, and he did his best to send me out into the world prepared and loved for what I would find. I'd stake every dollar I ever made that you had none of that." Christian said tautly.

"If you're so interested in my childhood, why don't you hire your own investigator? You can afford to we both know that." she flared.

The truth slapped Christian in the face.

"I don't want to. I don't want to go behind your back, or have a complete stranger ferreting out the details of your life. I want you to tell me yourself." He said baldly.

"You want me to trust you?" she said with an incredulity that grated on his nerves.

"Anything you will tell me will never go beyond this room, and I'll never use it against you."

"Even if that were true, why would I unload on you? I've never told anyone about me parents or my past."

"If you don't tell me, then I will hire my own investigator."

"You know what your problem is, you can't bare to loose."

"You got it. So which is it Anastasia? Confessions good for the soul, isn't that what they say?" He jammed his hands into his pockets.

"Psychobabble."

"Wisdom. Either way, give it a try."

She let our her breath in a small sigh and wandered over to the window, with its view of a quiet, tree lined street an oasis of peace in a huge city. Keeping his hands in his pockets, Christian followed her, stationed himself where he could watch her face.  
He had no idea what he was about to hear. But he did know it was essential he hear it.

Speaking to herself than to Christian,

"Elliot's casual acquaintances always liked him, He was astonishingly good looking, with charm to burn. He was also a heroine addict who stole, cheated and lied. As for Carla, she was beautiful, rich, wild and willful, with the morals of an ally cat. They were well matched. I, of course was an accident. I put a big crimp on their style until I was old enough to be left alone."

"How old was that?"

"Five. Six. They used to lock me in my room and go out, and I never knew when they'd come home or what shape they'd be in...I used to fantasize about running away. But I had no money and nowhere to go. No relatives, Elliot said, no grandparents of course they never told me about Carrick and his money."

"Are you suggesting they were model parents until you were five?"

She winced and with one finger began tracing the molding of the window, up and down, up and down.

"We lived in the same place until I was five, I had a nanny called Ysabel. I adored her. She was a fiery tempered Spaniard who stood up to my parents, made sure I got proper food and rest and took me to the park to play with the other children...I used to call her Bella because I couldn't get my tongue around Ysabel." She said tonelessly.

"What happened to her?"

"Two days after my fifth birthday, Elliot, Carla and I got on a train late at night and traveled to Vienna. I never saw Ysabel again. Even though I cried and cried, my parents wouldn't give me her phone number so I could call up and say goodbye...a couple of weeks later, they told me she'd died."

"It broke your heart."

"I've never loved another human soul since Ysabel, Love betrays you. Leaves you bereft and lonelier than you thought possible." She said, for the first time Ana looked at him. dry eyes he noticed for all that those eyes were green pools of pain.

"Not always, Sure I grieved when my mother Grace died. But I was richer because we loved each other." he said harshly.

Once again Ana realized, Christian had given honesty instead of easy sympathy.

"That hasn't been my experience." she said stonily.

"You never called your parents Mum and Dad?"

"They wouldn't have answered if I did."

"Not roles they aspired to," Christian said, remembering that Carrick had always wanted to give him the best childhood he could have.

"Did Elliot abuse you?" he asked.

"No, Oh I got slapped around quite a few times, usually when they were desperate for a fix and out of money. But nothing I wasn't used to."

That last phrase, he thought, revealed a great deal about the little girl Ana had been. Her daily life so frightening that to be slapped around was unimportant. Although he was almost sure he knew the answer he asked. "Why did you leave your first home?"

"Creditors were after Elliot. It set the pattern, stay in a city until it became too risky, then run away in the night and set up somewhere else. Sometimes the money flowed like water, sometimes there was none, No stability, No safety." she shivered.

"Until you ended up on the island."

"You see why I'm a loner, and why I loved my little cabin? It was mine. I was in control. And I was safe."

"You're safe here." Christian said forcefully.

With equal force Ana said, "One thing I've learned over the years is to create my own safety."

"You can ask other for help."

"You, you mean? I don't think so." she said with another incredulous laugh.

Why was he so angry, when, basically she was telling him what he wanted to hear? He'd never gone out of his way for any of his mistresses, to have done so would have been counter to the whole way he ran his life.  
Yet Ana had trusted him with her narrative and it had the ring of truth. Or rather he thought she'd partially trusted him, for he was aware of the gaps in her story, gaps that left plenty for the imagination. The year she'd turned sixteen, for instance, was still a blank as were all the years after that.

Later. Bide your time, Christian choose when to push deeper. In the next few day's there'll be plenty of opportunities.  
He would push. He knew he would. Even if he didn't fully understand why.

"We should eat Ana, Then we have to get ready the opera starts at eight." he said.

"You still want to go with me?" she was twisting her hands together.

"Why wouldn't I?" he raised his eyebrow.

"Christian, don't you get it? My father was a crook. My mother went from man to man as if she was changing her shoes. And you want to introduce me to New York society?"

"Do you think I'm a total fool? You're nothing like your parents."

"You don't have a clue what I'm like!" she knew she was nothing like them she made sure of it.

"I know quite a lot about you." Christian said, the words playing and replaying in his head. Although he had no idea where they'd come from, they had the unmistakable ring of truth.

"I'm so ashamed of my parents, I thought if I ever told anyone about them, I'd be dropped quicker than a rotten apple." Ana said in a low voice.

"You've got the wrong man."

"You're angry." she whispered.

"Not at you. At them. For the horrendous way they treated a little girl who was too young to defend herself."

"Oh , will I ever figure you out." she added in genuine perplexity.

"I'd hate to be too predictable."

Ana looked at him in silence. He crackled with suppressed energy, pulling her into his orbit by sheer force of personality. Predictable? What a joke. He'd listened to her sordid story without judging her, an act so unexpected that she was filled with gratitude. Not once in the last few minutes had he offered her cheap pit, nor had he touched her. If he had she might have broken her self imposed rule and wept all over him. Which wouldn't have been predictable either.

Oddly the thought of going out this evening, of being surrounded by strangers and distractions pleased her, right now she felt as though she'd been flayed, the memories crowding her mind to close and much too painful.

"You're right, we'd better eat. You'll like my dress the lady at the store picked it out because it's the same color as my eyes." she said and managed a smile.

He should have bought her emeralds to go with it, Christian thought. But there'd be plenty of opportunities for that, too.


	12. Chapter 12

**Here is another chapter for you all.**

Chapter Twelve:

To say he liked Ana's dress was the understatement of the year, Christian thought as he stood in the foyer and watched her descend the staircase. She was wearing a slender sheath of green, the taffeta skirt rustling as she walked, the tiny cap sleeves and abbreviated bodice heavy with gold embroidery. Her shoulders rose from it like polished ivory, topped by her flare of curls.  
Desire slammed into him, rocking him to his foundations.

"Very nice." he said forcing his features to impassivity.

"I'm not sure nice was the effect I was striving for."

He let his gaze wander from the toes of her gold spike heeled sandals past her enticing cleavage to her exotic eyes, artfully shaped with eye shadow, her lashes impossibly long.

"What were you striving for?"

"Vogue. Elle. Flare. Aim high." she grinned at him.

"Too much character in your face for a model, vapid you're not. Before you wear that dress again I'll buy you some emeralds."

"You will not!"

"You argue too much, shall we go?" He said and held out his arm.

Ana hesitated on the bottom step. Christian looked disturbingly handsome in a black tux teamed with an immaculate pleated white shirt. Handsome, sexy and magnetic, she thought, with that undercurrent of animal grace that his highly civilized clothes only emphasized.  
He knew more about her then anyone else in the world and he hadn't run away.  
He terrified her.  
With the poise of which she was inwardly proud, she rested her hand on his sleeve.

"My shawl is on the table by the door."

As he draped the swath of gold fabric around her shoulders, his fingers brushed her collarbone. A shiver of desire rippled through her. So that hadn't changed. If anything it had intensified.

She glanced up and blurted, "When you look at me, what do you see?" Then she clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh God forget I asked that."

Christian let the weight of his hands fall on her shoulders and for once left his tongue unguarded. "I see a beautiful woman who isn't yet convinced she's beautiful. Who has no idea of the power she wields, and who might not wish to wield it even if she did know. A women on the brink of the future..."

Startled, Ana stored the words away so she could think about them later. "You tell it as you see it."

"Is there any other way?"

"For you, no." Going on impulse, she reached up and kissed him, the softest of touches to his lips before she hurriedly stepped back. "You make me feel beautiful, thank you" she whispered.

It wouldn't do to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to bed, that went out of fashion years ago. With a huge effort, Christian managed to speak more or less normally.

"Let's go slay em at the Met."

"You haven't even told me what opera we're to see."

"La Traviata. Star crossed lovers."

Ana could have said, I've never had a lover, star crossed or otherwise. But she'd done more than enough talking for one night, and wasn't her virginal state yet another of the secrets she'd guarded for years?  
Taylor drove them to the opera house, where they were ushered into Christian's private box. The orchestra tuned up and the overtone began.  
When the curtain descended at the end of Act 1, Ana wasn't ready for the break.

"You like it?" Christian said, under the cover of a storm of applause.

"Oh yes, So much emotion and those delicious voices." she breathed.

He's never seen her face so open, so vulnerable. All her defenses were down, he thought grimly. But he'd be the lowest of the low to take advantage of it. He'd damn well better find himself another women and soon, it was called self preservation.

"Would you like some wine?"

"I'd just like to sit here, but you go." she said.

Good idea, Christian decided and headed for the bar. However and the end of the second act Ana said. "I need to stretch, It's not going to end happily, I know...I wish it would."

"A glass of wine'll fix the blues," Christian said heartlessly.

He led her through the crowds in the lobby, introducing her to several people whose names she immediately forgot. Then a tall slender blonde in a patrician white gown approached them. Ignoring Ana, she laid her hand confidingly on Christian's sleeve and reached up to kiss him. A kiss she'd intended for his lips, Ana thought but Christian at the last minute moved his head so that the kiss landed on his cheek.

"It's been so long since I seen you Christian, too long we must get together." the blonde said.

"Hello, Elena... may I introduce Anastasia Steele? Elena Lincoln, Anastasia."

Elena assessed her with insulting brevity.

"Hello, are you enjoying the opera? The production's by no means as good as Zeffirelli's" Elena assessed her with insulting brevity.

"As I've never seen it before, I can't compare."

"Your first visit to town? I thought you looked a little out of place." Elena smiles, her eyes ice blue.

"I grew up in Europe," Ana said, smiling back. "Amsterdam, Vienna, Paris. So it's pleasant to visit Manhattan with Christian."

Elena's lashes flickered. "Christian, I'm in town until you're not tied up all weekend."

Tied up, An thought with an inner quiver of amusement. The women wasn't born who could do that to Christian Grey.

"Ana and I are leaving for France first thing tomorrow." Christian said easily.

Elena's mouth tightened. Turning to Ana.

"Don't expect it to last, will you? Sooner or later. Christian always moves on."

"Leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him? Somehow Elena, I don't think mine will be among them. But thanks for the warning...Christian, should we go back to our box?" Ana said.

With an undeniable flounce, Elena turned her back.

""Nice to have met you," Ana added wickedly. Then as she and Christian walked up the stairs, she hissed , "How often am I going to meet your ex-mistresses?"

"I wouldn't worry about it, you're more than capable of holding your own."

She was also, Ana realized, extremely angry for no real reason.

"Or perhaps I shouldn't assume she's an ex? She didn't seem to think she was."

"Money, Ana, money. If I was down and out, Elena would trample me under her Ferragamos."

"So why did you sleep with her?"

"You find me a women who doesn't give a damn about the Grey millions!"

Ana gaped at him, it hadn't occurred to her that money could be, in certain situations, a liability. With painful truth.

"I'm not better than Elena, I'm dressed from head to toe in stuff you paid for. And if you had your way, I'd be draped in emeralds as well" She said.

He closed the curtains of their box with a decisive snap.

"You'd be enjoying the opera just as much in the back row of the family circle." he said curtly.

"Huh...at least you didn't give Elena the down and dirty about my life in Europe."

"Let's get something straight, Ana. We both come with a past. Yes, I've had affairs, of course I have. As for you, you're twenty two years old, you've been on your own since you were sixteen there've been men in your life and maybe we'll bump into one of them at the Paris airport."

She really should tell Christian the truth, Ana thought uncomfortably. She'd never get a better time than now. But as she opened her mouth, the conductor mounted his podium and bowed to the applause and the moment passed.  
As did the moment to ask Christian who would be his next mistress. He was on the lookout he'd told her so.  
She'd hate her, Whoever she was.  
As the curtain rose on Violetta's bedroom, Ana's thoughts marched on. How could she hate someone she'd never met?  
It wasn't as though she wanted to be Christians mistress herself.  
Dog in the manager, she thought, that's you.  
Besides, Christian's a free man, who's doing Carrick a favor by traveling four continents with you in his wake. You're nothing to him.  
Just one more beautiful women in a string of beautiful women.  
From the bed, Violetta began to sing, and Ana tried her best to sublimate her own feelings in those of the doomed courtesan.  
Gradually she lost herself to everything but the music. The tragic ending touched her to the heart, and she was very quiet as they walked out into the cool of evening, where water cascaded in shades of pink and gold in the huge fountain.

Violetta, so young and beautiful, had longed for her handsome lover with a depth of emotion that had been a revelation to Ana. But Violetta had died.  
She, Ana was very much alive. And hadn't Christian's kisses, passionate and passionately irresistible, also been a revelation, evoking cravings she hadn't known she capable of?  
She' been fooling herself, she didn't want Christian to make love to another women, or to find else to be his mistress. She wanted him to make love to her.  
Her step faltered. Revelation number three, she thought dazedly. Not that she had an idea how to seduce Christian.

"Ana are you alright?"

"Oh...Oh yes," she stammered, flushing as she realized that Christian's quizzical gaze was fastened on her face. Heaven knows what he'd been able to read there.

Nothing she prayed. Her certainty that she wanted Christian for herself was too new, too raw, to bring it into the open. Let alone act on it.  
She took a deep breath, calling on all her poise.

"I loved the opera, Christian. Thank you so much for taking me."

"My pleasure," he said tritely, guiding her toward the waiting limo.

What would it be like to be Christians lover? As she traveled round the world with him, would she find the opportunity and the courage to invite him to her bed?  
She didn't do sex.  
But would it be just sex with him? just sex? what did that mean? Or would it be something else altogether, something operatic in intensity, unquenchable and all-absorbing?

There was no way Ana could tell, for she was operating from a basis of total ignorance. Although she'd read a lot of novels over the past few years, many containing sex, not one of them had prepared her for Christian Grey.  
A few minutes later, When she walked into the foyer of Christian's penthouse she was achingly aware of the silence.  
They were alone together. Christian's bedroom was upstairs.  
She'd checked it out this afternoon before he came home, had even sat on the bed on the dark blue spread and wondered heaven help her, if he slept naked.

"I'm going to bed, it's been a long day." She said raggedly.

He tugged at his tie. "Whoever invented these damn things didn't have comfort in mind, Goodnight. Set your alarm so that we can leave by six thirty tomorrow." he muttered.

His mind wasn't on her, she thought, scurrying up the stairs. Or on sex. Which was, of course, a very good thing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Surprise... Another chapter. I know that it is small but it is packed full of action =]. Let me know what you think.**

Chapter Thirteen:

Ana dreamed that night about Carla singing a pizza as at the top of her voice as she lay dying of an overdose, while Elliot, in the next room was fighting a duel with knuckle busters... she woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she knew from long experience that she wouldn't easily get back to sleep.  
So much for opera.  
She pulled on a silk robe over her nightgown and on bare feet padded down the stairs. Surely she'd find hot chocolate, or at least tea, in Christian's highly impressive kitchen.  
Rooting in the cupboards, she found expensive brand of cocoa. Trying to read the dates on the milk cartons, she propped the refrigerator door against her hip and stuck her head in the whole way.

"What's up?"

With a shriek of alarm, Ana backed up, bumped into Christian and turned in his arms.

"I thought you were a burglar." she stuttered.

"I thought you were," he said dryly.

He was wearing a low slung pair of sweatpants and nothing else. Dark hair tunneled from breastbone to navel, he was so close she could smell, elusively, a tantalizing combination of scented soap and warm, male skin. Her palms were pressed to his chest, she could feel its muscled hardness through every pore, a sensation that made her melt like a candle to the flame.  
The robe she'd flung on to come downstairs had fallen off her shoulders, and her nightgown was one of the more minimal choices. Say something, Ana thought frantically.  
Anything.

"I couldn't sleep."

"I thought I heard someone call out, that's what woke me."

Oh god. "I had a bad dream."

His arms tightened their hold.

"I said you were safe here."

Safe she thought. Was this the idea of safe? And was safety what she really wanted?  
Violetta hadn't opted for safety.  
Her heart was racing as though a wild bird was trapped in her rib cage, beneath her fingertips, his muscles were iron hard. He was beautiful, she thought helplessly. Why had she never realized that a man's body could emphasize so seductively her own femininity?

"Dammit, Ana, Don't look at me like that."

"Is this the power you were talking about? I feel so different with you, as though somehow you free me to be myself and yet that women is someone I don't even know." She faltered.

Like a man driven to the brink, Christian sought out her mouth.  
She met him more than halfway, her lips parted, willing and eager.  
He nipped at her lower lip, then slid his tongue along its sweet curve, his hands skimmed the length of her body under the slippery silk. Heat throbbed through her, swirled and shuddered. She moaned deep in her throat, arching against him. Then he plunged with his tongue and the world dissolved into nothing but desire.  
It didn't take courage at all, she thought dimly, to be in Christian's arms for it was the most natural place in the world for her to be.  
She buried her hands in his hair, pulling his head down, aching for more, more, always more...and felt, with a thrill of possessiveness, the hard jut of his own needs.  
He wanted her.  
With a recklessness new to her, she rubbed herself against him and heard him gasp her name. He clamped one arm tight around her, pulling her into his body, the thin silk no barrier at all to an intimacy that drenched her liquid fire. Drenched and destroyed her.  
Clinging to him with the last of her strength, she dug her nails into the taut muscles of his shoulders.  
Take me, Take me she thought dazedly, and knew she was ready to travel to an unknown country. With Christian. Only with Christian.  
Each tiny jab of her fingernails lanced straight to Christian's loins. With a muffled groan, he let his teeth graze the long line of her throat, thrown back, bared for him, before he dragged the thin strip of her gown down her shoulder. Her breasts pale glimmer nearly drove hi out of his mind. He dropped his head , tracing the soft rise of her flesh, then flicking her nipple with his tongue until it was rock hard. Until she was whimpering, incoherently begging him for more.  
Muscle, blood, bone and sinew, he wanted her. Had to have her, had to satiate a need beyond any he'd ever known.  
He was drowning in her. Losing himself. He'd die if he didn't take her. Here. Now.

Somewhere, deep within, a red warning light flashed on.  
Drown? Lose himself? Die?  
What the hell was going on? He'd never felt like this in his life. Never needed a women as, right now, he so desperately needed Anastasia.  
He didn't want to need her.  
From the same deep place, he found the strength to drag his mouth from the sweetness and heat of her body, to fill his lungs with air and say in a voice that didn't sound remotely like his own,

"I'm ending this, right now."

She shuddered in his hold, opening green eyes that were drowned.. that word again, Christian thought savagely in desire.

"I don't understand, whats wrong?" she whispered.

How could he possibly explain something he scarcely understood himself? If Ana, at the age of five, had decided against love, hadn't he, equally young decided against need?  
For as far back as he could remember his real mother had derided a small boys need for love and approval and Carrick had always tried to get beyond that but Christian always kept him at a careful distance.  
Surface relationships, Christian thought caustically, those were his specialty, and over the years they'd served him well.  
He wasn't going to change, dammit. If Ana's body drove him too close to the edge, then he'd deny himself that body.  
Simple.

"It's all wrong, if we go to bed together, we'll both regret it in the morning." he said

Ana straightened, bracing herself with her palms to his bare chest, and said with ragged honesty.

"I don't want you to stop. I won't regret it, I swear I won't."

The terror that had so puzzled him on the pebble beach of the island was gone, in it's place was surrender, pure and simple.

"But I will." Christian said brutally.

"So it was all an act?" she flinched visibly, she quavered.

"No!"

"You're lying, you've got to be!"

"I'm not, somethings you can't fake."

"Then what's going on? I don't understand..."

"I'd be taking advantage of you," he said stonily.

When all else fails, fall back on cliches, he thought with savage self derision.

"How could you take advantage of me when I've just told you that I'm willing."

Christian moved back so that Ana's hands fell to her sides. He should have pushed her away the first moment she backed out of the refrigerator into his arms, he thought furiously.  
His willpower was impressive. But not that Impressive.  
Pride stiffened Ana's spine like a cornered animal she went on the attack.

"Do you enjoy making women beg for your attention? For sexual favors? If so, I was right to despise you." Then her eyes widened with comprehension. she gasped. "There's someone else. You've already found another women. Of course how stupid of me not to guess."

"Don't be..."

"I'll go through with this trip to France tomorrow because I want to disappoint Carrick, But keep your distance Christian Grey do you hear me? Or I'll damn well go back to my little shack on the first plane and leave you to explain why." she said raggedly.

In a swirl of silk she marched out of the kitchen. The swing door swished shut behind her.  
Christian let out his breath in a long sigh. Well done, he thought. He hadn't wanted to admit to himself, let alone to her even the possibility that he might need her. So now he'd driven her away and he wasn't completely blind he had hurt her feelings into the bargain.  
He was a brilliant CEO, yeah. But he was bottom of the class when it came to Anastasia Steele.

He might want to check his morning coffee for arsenic. On which less than comforting though, Christian went to bed.

Alone.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey there lovely's here is another update. I hope you like it.**

Chapter Fourteen:

At Charles-de-gaulle Airport, Christian's driver Taylor was waiting for them, that man seemed to be everywhere. Christian couldn't help but notice the color of the car was scarlet. The color of passion, he thought. The color of blood.  
Ever since they'd left Manhattan for the airport where his personal jet had been parked, Ana had maintained an icy silence, sleeping her way across the Atlantic, now ignoring him as if he didn't exist. As Taylor loaded their suitcases into the trunk, he climbed in and sat in silence. Two could play at that game, he thought vengefully . Besides being in Paris always took his full attention.  
As a couple of taxi drivers intent on mayhem swerved in front of them, she didn't even flinch. Her defenses were firmly in place and he thoroughly disliked being ignored.  
You're not used to it Christian, your other women spent their time falling all over you.  
Unlike Ana.  
They covered the seventy or so kilometers to the chateau in record time. As they turned into the long driveway through imposing wrought iron gates, he said. "Welcome to Chateau de Grey."

"Thank you." Ana said coolly.

She was determined not to be impressed. But after the car had wound through through a dense forest, which opened up into formal gardens of clipped shrubbery and autumn flowers, she saw the chateau and gave an involuntary gasp of pleasure. It was riding the banks of the river in creamy splendor, its Renaissance turrets and windows shining in the early evening sun.  
A palace out of a fairy tale, she thought, where all the endings were happy.  
There's be no happy endings for her.

"The tufa cliffs are to our left, Caves were dug into them generations ago for aging and storing wine. The vineyards are behind the chateau. It's a good time to be here. Some of the early ripening grapes are nearly ready to be harvested, others are waiting for the first frost...we'll get rid of our stuff, you can change into something less formal, then I'll take you around. I haven't been here for two months, so I have a lot to do." Christian Said.

As he spoke of the harvest, his voice had warmed. So he cared, she thought.

"Learning the complexities of wine making will be a breeze compared to understanding you." she blurted.

"The you's better stick to the wine," Christian said.

Stifling both pan and anger she did just that, until her brain was stuffed with a wealth of information about pruning, tannin content, Sancerre, rare vintages and wooden vats.  
Somehow, the day had fled and it was evening. Wriggling her shoulders to rid them of fatigue, Ana followed Christian out of the courtyard. A full moon had risen through the trees, the walls of the chateau a ghostly white, poised over the still waters of the Loire.

"we haven't even touched on the marketing aspect of the vineyard." she said

"We'll do that tomorrow morning. It's science in itself."

"Just don't let me do so much tasting tomorrow," she remarked, picking her way over the cobblestones with exaggerated care. "I've never had much head for drink."

"You're cut off, I'd like us to walk some of the rows before we have dinner. Because in the end it's the grapes that count." He said abruptly, moonlight gleaming in his hair.

She was beginning to like him, Ana thought blankly. The depth and acuity of his knowledge, the respect and affection that the workers held for him, they were real as the parterres with their well tended blossoms, and the bronze statues reflected in stone edged pool.

She was a long way from home.

"I'd rather be here than in the library back on the island. I guess I'd outgrown safety and didn't even know it." She said.

Christian stopped in his tracks, "You have the continual capacity for taking me by surprise."

"I bet Elena never took you by surprise."

"Not once...you didn't like her any more than she liked you."

Without even thinking, knowing the question was too important for her to hedge. Ana asked. "Is she going to be your mistress again?"

They'd climbed the slope behind the chateau. Rows of vines ranged the hillside, the canes heavy with grapes.

"These rows are Sancerre. Over there are Bourgueil." Christian said.

"Is that the polite way of telling me to mind my own business?"

"I won't get involved with Elena again. There is a lot of history there that just need to be left alone."

Involved Ana thought, what a horrible word and the fact that there was history just made her blood boil.

"Are you involved with anyone else?" she asked.

"What is this, an inquisition?"

"It's a straightforward question," she said, hoping he couldn't hear the sick pounding of her heart.

"No, Not yet."

So she had her answers, Glancing around at a world bathed in the moon's pale radiance, Ana realized with a tightening of her nerves how isolated they were up here, out of sight of the chateau and the outbuildings of the vineyard. She stopped to admire the carefully spaced bunches of grapes on the vines, taking a moment to gather her courage. Then, standing tall, she looped her arms around Christian's neck and kissed him full on the mouth.

"I did that because I wanted to. Not because you're rich." she said stepping back.

A breeze stirred her hair. An owl hooted from the forest, hauntingly sad, her heartbeat was like thunder in her ears, so loud she was sure the owl could hear it. Christian standing dead still and as the seconds ticked by, the gamble she'd just taken seemed more and foolhardy.  
Anyway, it had failed.  
Them Christian brought his hands up and cupped her face, his fingers digging into her skin. His grey eyes hard.

"In the long run, I'll hurt you, Ana. You're not the type for a casual fling and I'm nit into commitment. Never have been." he said.

"So do we do nothing because we're afraid of being hurt? That's what my life was like for sixteen years I lived with Elliot and Carla. Smooth the troubled waters. Keep a low profile. Don't rock the boat. I lived every cliche in the book, over and over again until I was sick of them. But now I'm ready to take a few risks. After all, I'm here in France with you aren't I?" she cried.

Her skin was cool to his fingertips, smooth as the finest silk. And wasn't he being offered, freely the women he'd ached to bed ever since his first sighting of her on a rocky beach on the island?  
He'd be a fool not to take her.

"I exercise control in all things miss Steele." he said harshly.

"I have figured with the way that you control all the business and I like it that way."

"So this isn't related to the fact that I'm a billionaire?"

"No."

The words forcing themselves out, their raw truth roughening his voice.

"You can't be bought, Ana. You know it, and so do I." Christian said.

"Do you mean that?" Her eyes jerked to meet his own.

"Yes, Can't you tell? Or do you disbelieve everything I say?" he said shortly. Then to his horror, he saw that her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "For God's sake, don't cry I meant it as a compliment."

"You trust me, that's what you're saying. And I never cry." She gulped, blinking furiously.

"You're giving a damn good approximation."

"It's so stupid way back, when we were eating dnner at the hotel on the island, I was doing my level best to convince you I was after every cent you and Carrick ever earned. But now I'm nearly in tears because you understand that what's at stake here has nothing to do with money. Absolutely nothing."

So has he finally, Christian wondered, found a women who didn't see him as a walking bank account?

"This doesn't change the way I feel about anything long term. Falling in love isn't an option. Marriage certainly isn't." he said tersely.

"Mistress is an okay word." she raised her chin defiantly.

"As long as you're sure of that."

"I'm sure. I'm beginning to think you're the one who is afraid of risk Christian." her lips, those delectable lips curved in a slow provocative smile.

"Are you calling me a coward?" He whipped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him. Her eyes widened and her smile vanished her body was suddenly ridged.

"I take it back." she said, keeping her voice level with a huge effort. She was the one who was afraid and was desperate to keep that fear to herself.

Take the initiative, she thought. Before you run like a rabbit.  
She let her palms slide up his chest, feeling through his shirt, the heat of his skin, the hardness of bone and muscle.  
Feeling, distantly, the first stirrings of desire. She lifted her face, her lips parted and with mingled excitement and terror watched his eyes marrow with purpose, points of fire in their dark centers.

"I've waited too long for this." He said with ferocious intent. Then his mouth plummeted to hers, his tongue lacing itself with hers, plundering her, robbing her of everything but a fierce, shocking need.

Somehow, from depths she hadn't known she possessed Ana answered him with a hunger that matched his own, For if he had plunged to her mouth like a peregrine to it's prey, then she was his mate, his equal. So she met him, fire with fire, and felt his arms tighten around her waist, hauling her into him, hip to hip.  
She was burning all her bridges, she thought dimly. Which was another cliche. She was abandoning any notions of safety to embrace a man who would lead her into an unknown country...  
Her response had rocketed through every cell in Christian's body.  
Holding to a vestige of control for had he ever lost it so fast?  
He slip his lips down the pale column of her throat to the little hollow at the base of her throat, and felt her pulse skitter under his tongue.

"So you like that?" He muttered hoarsely, and without waiting for her reply, pushed her jacket aside to find her breast, his breath catching in his throat as she shuddered with desire.

"I like it," she said weakly.

"I wouldn't want you to be in any doubt." With lightning speed he lifted her off her feet, pulling her into his body, and kissed her again, kissed her as thought he'd been waiting all his life to be with this one woman in the moonlight beside an ancient river.  
Her little gasp of shock was smothered by his mouth. He demanded and took, he sought and coaxed and only when he felt her surrender in every bone of her body did he lower her to the ground.  
Ana lay back, the long rows of grapes enclosing her, the darkly luminous sky over her head. Christian's big body was hovering over her, covering her, never had she felt so purely feminine, yet so certain of her own power. She opened her arms to him, welcoming his weight, his warmth. His face closed off the sky and his lips, once again drank deep of her mouth.  
Far away the owl hooted, Christian barely heard it. He was steeped in the women embracing him, his control shattered, and still he took an still she answered him, kiss for kiss, caress for caress.  
He tore her jacket from her shoulders, letting it fall back on the clipped grass, and to his huge gratification felt her fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt.  
As her fingers tangled themselves in his body hair, then swept over his nipples, he juddered in response.  
His own jacket joined hers on the ground. Ripping at the buttons, Christian tore her blouse away from her body, her breasts, cupped in white lace, made his breath hitch. Swiftly he undid the clasp on her bra, gazing at her in passion of pleasure and hunger before dropping his head to seek out her breats rosy tips with tongue and fingers.  
She bucked in his hold, her sharp cry of delight inflaming him. Distantly he felt her yank his shirt down his back and take his bare shoulders in her hands, clasping them as though she never wanted him to let goo.

"You're so god damn beautiful...I want to see you naked." he muttered.

He raised his head, kissing her again, laving her tongue with his and plundering all the sweetness of her mouth. Then he pulled off his shirt, tossing it toward the vines.  
Christian's shoulders gleamed in the moonlight, broad, tautly, muscled, had she ever seen anything so beautiful, so infinitely desirable? And if he wanted her naked, then naked she would be. Her fingers trembling, passion conquering shyness, Ana unbuttoned her slacks and lifted her hips in a single graceful movement to ease them from her body.  
Her legs, so long, so slender, flooded Christian with primitive possessiveness. She was his. Only his. With brutal strength he ripped her bikini panties down her hips. She kicked them off, her hands instinctively covering herself.

"Don't be shy there's no need."

"But I've"

Stopped her words with his mouth, Christian drank deep. Then lifted her hands one by one, he kissed her palms from there, with mouth and hands he began exploring the silken smooth curves and hollows of her body, from throat to collarbone to breast to navel. She was trembling all over, whimpering his name, and all he wanted to do was bring her pleasure.  
He slid down her body, parting the damp pink petals of her flesh, then stroking them rhythmically, erotically.  
Swamped with sensation, Ana gasped in shock and delight, her body arching, her nails digging into his bare shoulders.

"Christian, don't stop, Please don't stop." she muttered.

Then Christian felt the climax seize her, feral, lethal, her broken cries echoing in his ears as she tumbled over the edge. Swiftly he gathered her in his arms, her body boneless, her heartbeat like a trip hammer against his rib cage.

"Christian," she whispered again, "Oh, Christian..."

He traced the long curve of her belly, clasped her by the hips and lifted her into his erection, flame shuddering through his limbs, primal and unstoppable.

"There's more," he said hoarsely. "God how I want you!" and kissed her again, ravaging her mouth.

She wrenched free, her breathing ragged.

"I want you so much, beyond anything I've ever known...but be gentle with me, won't you? I've never done this before...it's all new to me."

His heart stopped in his chest. Riveted to the ground.

"What do you mean?" he lashed.

"I'm a virgin, I should have told you before, but somehow the time never seemed right to." she said, a flush rising in her cheeks.

"A virgin?" he repeated blankly, a chill rippling down his spine.

"I never even kissed anyone the way I kiss you. Let alone the rest...why are you looking at me like that?"

"Where have you been all my life? Why didn't you tell me after the opera? We were talking about our pasts. I told you about the women I'd been with."

"I should have, I know. But you had so much experience and I had none. Absolutely zero. It's no big deal, Christian, it's not as thought I've done anything shameful. Just the opposite, in fact."

He reached over and grabbed a fistful of their clothes. Then he surged to his feet. Roughly he hauled her up to join him.

"Here get dressed."

"What are you talking about? I don't want to."

"This isn't going any further, it went to far as it was."

"Don't treat me like a child!"

"I don't do virgins, the women I bed know the score." he said coldly.

"You're behaving like those job applications where you have to have experience to get the job..yet the job's the only way to get the experience. Don't you understand? I'm trusting you. With my body. With myself. Surely I don't have to spell it out." she said incoherently.

"The other thing I don't do as you know is commitment." he grated, buttoning up his shirt. His reasons were deep rooted, powerful and profoundly private. The last person he'd share them with was Ana.

"I'm not into long term, Hell, Anastasia, do I have to spell it out? How can I have a temporary affair with you? Apart from being a virgin, you're part of the family. Oh by the way, Carrick, I initiated your grand daughter into sex while we were away, Not going to marry her of course, but it was fun while it lasted. Is that what you are suggesting?"

"Carrick has nothing to do with this, it's my body. I do with it what I choose." she seethed.

"Not with me you don't, you should stay away from me."

"How dare you treat me this way, as though I am not capable of making up my own mind about this." she stamped her foot.

The moonlight fell softly over her bare breasts, for she'd disdained to put on her blouse. His whole body was one big ache of frustration and lust. Fighting to subdue and anger that he knew was out of proportion.

"Quite apart from any other considerations, I'd be taking advantage of your inexperience. When you get married, you'll want..." Christian said flatly.

"Married?" she interjected furiously. "After living for sixteen years with Elliot and Carla, you think marriage is on my list?"

"If it isn't, it should be. You can't let them run the show."

"I will if I want to, So why don't you want to get married, Christian? Carrick and your mother loved each other, you had the best of examples." she retorted.

"Too constricting, Too predictable, too dull. I don't do vanilla. I like variety. Playing the field." he said evasively.

"With me as just one more player." she winced

He pulled on his trousers and shoved his shirt into his waistband. Ana was different. That was the whole problem.  
Just by herself, she overturned all his rules, made nonsense of them.  
She was also a virgin.

"Get dressed," he repeated unyielding.

Ana's shoulders sagged. "I've run out of arguments," she said helplessly. "It's like battering my fists against the walls of the Chateau."

"We should never have come up here." he glanced around at the silent rows of canes with their precious burden of grapes.

So briefly she could have imagined it, he looked as though he was being torn in two, but then that illusory flash of pain was gone. She hardened her heart. She wasn't going to feel sorry for Christian Grey.  
She wasn't going to feel sorry for herself either, she thought forcibly, fumbling to do up her blouse. No sir, She was going to dump all the rules she'd come up with over the years to keep herself safe, and live life on her own terms.  
Starting tomorrow, she'd learn everything she possibly could about running a vineyard and when she got back to Carrick's she'd ask her grandfather if she could have a job here.  
Ask? No way. She'd demand he give her the job.  
On the sole condition that Christian Grey never be allowed near the place and she stormed off towards the Chateau leaving Christian standing there.

It was a condition she'd insist on, Ana thought three days later, as the plane touched down on the runway in Venice. In the last seventy two hours, she'd concentrated to the best of her ability and absorbed information through her pores. But the whole time, Christian had avoided her assiduously, delegating her education at the vineyard to his underlings whenever possible, on the rare occasions when he'd been forced to speak to her, his frosty politeness had been far worse than outright rudeness.  
She should have been happy to have seen so little of him, she thought, unlatching her seat belt. Amount the grapevines in the moonlight, hadn't he treated her like a teenager who didn't have her own mind? She hated him for that callous dismissal, of course she did.  
Or did she?  
She wasn't happy. She was unrelentingly and acutely miserable instead. If La Traviata had shown her the power of emotion, the aborted lovemaking in the vineyard had taught her all too much about desire, and it's dark companion, frustration.  
She still wanted to make love with Christian, lose her virginity with him, take that enormous leap into physical intimacy with him. He was indeed, as she'd recognized instinctively on the pebble beach on the island. Her fate.  
None of this made sense, logically. Why would she still want to make love with a man who'd turned her down as casually, as cruelly as if she were one of the chateaus marble statues?  
But then, La Traviata hadn't made sense either.  
What made even less sense was the way she missed Christian's companionship and laughter, the warmth of his rare smiles, his touch. At the chateau she'd dreamed about him every night in her big fur poster bed, embarrassingly erotic dreams charged with emotions that each morning left her heavy eyes and heavy hearted. Day by day, her unhappiness had intensified, now she stood up and stretched her legs, she knew she was dreading their stay in Venice.

She soon discovered that she and Christian were staying in a luxurious Grey hotel on one of the small islands in the lagoon, from her window Ana could see the nearby island of Burano with it's brightly painted houses and wooden fishing boats.  
Obediently she toured the hotel with Christian, learning what went on behind the scenes to produce a seemingly effortless level of comfort and service for the guests.  
It was interesting, and often an eye opener, but it didn't captivate her as the vineyard had. Once again though Christian treated his employees with respect and genuine warmth, an attitude that emphasized, all too cruelly, the way he was treating her. Again, the anger she'd been aware ever since Christian had ordered her to put her clothes on, ordered her as if she was a child. it flicked along her nerves.

Anger felt better than misery.  
At the age of sixteen, she'd taken control of her destiny.  
Wasn't it time she did the same again? Be damned if she'd be his victim, helpless, suffering in silence.  
Fine words. But how was she going to put them into effect?  
Mid afternoon, when they took a break, she said to Christian with a casualness that even to her own ears, didn't ring true. "My brain's in overdrive, I can't do anymore today...will you arrange for me to have a gondola ride on the Grand Canal?"

"I can take you by water ferry to far more interesting places."

"Tomorrow perhaps. For know, I'd like to be an ordinary tourist. You don't have to come," she finished, risking a dart of sarcasm. "I wouldn't want to bore you."

If he didn't come she'd take it as an omen and cancel or at least delay her ill formed plan.  
He could hardly deny her, Christian thought, for he wasn't blind to how hard she'd worked the last four days. Nor had she made any effort to reopen that disastrous moonlight conversation between the silent rows of vines, for that alone she deserved to ride a dozen gondolas.

"I'll come, We'll have dinner in a little restaurant I know near the Rialto Bridge you can sample Italian wine for change." he said brusquely.

So the die was cast, Ana thought with an inward shiver, Hadn't she known all along that Christian would accompany her? To keep her safe. Choking back a giggle that might have bordered on hysteria, she wondered if she'd have the nerve to go through with her plan.  
The risk was astronomical, the chance of success...she had no idea if she'd succeed, or what would be the cost if she did.  
But she couldn't go on she was.


	15. Chapter 15

**SURPRISE! Here is another chapter my lovely's. I also just want to thank you all so much for the reviews I love reading them all. You all make me want to write continuously.**

Chapter Fifteen:

In the hotel bedroom, Ana too one of dresses off the hanger. It was long, flowing and ultra feminine in a soft shade of tangerine. Sexy without being too obvious about it.  
Her pretty sandals were encrusted with crystals, and she inserted delicate crystal earrings in her ears. She then added makeup to enhance her eyes, her hair a knot of curls with tendrils that sculpted her cheeks, and a warm lipstick flecked with gold colored her lips. War paint, she thought and in a surge of cold terror wondered when the time came could she dare embark forward in this battle. Let alone win.

I'm not one of Christian's typical women, and I know he wants me...keep that in mind, she told herself fiercely. After taking some deep breaths, she left her room and floated down the winding staircase to the lobby.  
As always, her beauty struck Christian like a physical blow.  
More then one male head turned to watch her progress, he noticed with a possessiveness that was not appropriate.  
He walked forward to meet her.

"I found this shawl in the boutique, it can be cool on the canal." he said.

The shawl was woven of the finest wool, a creamy white that reminded her of the stone walls of his chateau.

"It's lovely, thank you," she said with unaffected pleasure.

Elena would have turned her well bred nose at so simple a gift. But Ana was wrapping herself in the shawl stroking its soft fold. She's not for you, Christian thought viciously. She's a virgin. Out of bounds.  
They traveled to Venice, La Serenissima, by water ferry, then boarded the gondola Christian had reserved, the gondolier was dressed in striped shirt and straw hat. Ana sat on a fat cushion, facing the six pronged iron ferro on the stern. She was also facing Christian, impossibly handsome, impossibly sexy Christian.  
The long wooden oar splashed peacefully in the water.  
Christian interjected the occasional explanation of the colorfully striped mooring poles outside the palazzi, of the Gothic splendor of Cad'D'Oro, of the origin of the church of the salute, bathed in a fiery sunset. He was more relaxed than she'd seen him in a few days, she thought and was glad she suggested this simple outing, even though her motives were suspect. Besides he was speaking to her without that deadly politeness that had so crushed her spirits.

As the gondolier serenaded her in Italian, the glorious architecture further distracted her from her nervousness. The plan, after all didn't have to be implemented until after dinner.

"I'm having a wonderful time Christian, the canal's so evocative of the past. So romantic." she said impetuously.

"It smells." Christian said pithily.

"You've got the soul of a businessman."

"I am a businessman. So should I toss these? They were intended as an antidote to the smell." He gave her one of his rare smiles, producing a armload of yellow roses from behind his seat.

"You arranged for them to be here? That was sweet of you." she said charmed, burying her nose in the silky petals.

In front of his eyes, she'd changed from the strictly businesslike partner of the last few days to the desirable and all too approachable women he'd so nearly seduced at the vineyard.  
Christian's loins tightened. Furious with himself, he pointed out a fondaco, a twelfth century warehouse, and told her a little of it's histroy. But she was still cradling the roses, her cheek brushing the delicate blooms seductively, her lips gently curved.  
To his infinite relief, he realized that they'd reached their destination. The gondola bumped against the mooring, then they walked along a crowded street past faded old buildings to the restaurant. Christian had chosen small and intimate, rather than imposing. Bad mistake, he thought, watching candlelight dance over Ana's features at their secluded table.

"The gondolier was please to be given the roses." He said at random, once they had chosen their meals.

"After he told me his wife was pregnant, I wanted to do something for him, I hope you don't mind?"

He shook his head. Her lovemaking, inexperienced though it had been, had had that same generosity, a thought Christian squashed as soon as it surfaced. One more day at the hotel, a quick side trip on the way home, then they'd be back on his own turf. Maybe there it would be easier to keep his hands off her.  
If worst came to the worst, he'd call someone to keep him company.  
Ana's dress clung softly to her breasts, desperate to bury his face in her cleavage so shadowed and enticing, Christian averted his gaze. The breeze on the canal had tousled her curls and as she smiled at the waiter, her green eyes shone like jewels.  
Desperate? When had he ever been desperate for a women before?  
Maybe abstinence was affecting his brain. Up until now, hadn't he always taken what he wanted?  
Up until now, he's always been in control.

"You look very fierce," Ana said edgily.

With a jerk, Christian came back to the present. "Sorry, How's the insalata?" he said with unaccustomed awkwardness.

"Delicious, the dressing is to die for." she said, spearing a sun dried tomato

It's you who's to die for, Christian thought. And for a horrible moment he thought he'd said the words out loud. Trying to pull himself together, he began to talk about some of his early experiences in Venice, when he was wheeling and dealing to produce the renovation permits for the hotel.  
To his relief, she declined dessert. He paid the bill and in no time was ushering her on board the hotel's private water ferry. Half and hour, he thought. You can keep a lid on lust for thirty more minutes.  
The soft putt putt of the motor discouraged conversation.  
But the moon, the same full moon that had shone in the vineyard on Ana's naked breasts was shimmering on the waters of the lagoon. At least he was sitting across from her, to have felt her thigh pressed to his would have been more than he could bear.  
He'd never in his life been so glad to reach one of his own hotels. His jaw tight, he escorted her to the top floor, where her suite next door to his overlooked the spires and domes of the city.

"I'll see you in the morning." he said.

"I'll look forward to it," she replied, gave him an enigmatic smile and closed the door in his face.

In his own suite, Christian ripped off his tie, took a shower which he made cold, threw on sweatpants and turned on the TV. He wasn't going to get any sleep, he might as well brush up on his Italian.  
Five minutes later, after he'd just poured himself a glass of Tuscan wine, a soft tap came at his door.  
He hadn't ordered room service and he had his own fax machine and laptop, so it couldn't be someone from the front desk. Puzzled, he peered through the peephole.  
Ana was standing in the hallway.

Swiftly he unlocked the door, "Is anything wrong?"

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Her cheeks were pale, her eyes enormous. He took her by the elbow, drew her into the room and snapped the door shut.

"Are you ill Anastasia?"

Her robe was full length, a virginal white. Beneath it, her nightgown reached to mid thigh. It was diaphanous and not remotely virginal, he thought, his mouth dry. The plunging neckline alone was calculated to drive a man to drink.

"If you're not feeling well, I can call the hotel doctor." He said with impersonal crispness.

In a staccato voice she announced, "I'm sick of being a virgin, that's all that's wrong with me, and that's the first thing I have to say."

Her chin was set at an seductive angle, her face was still paper white and once again she'd taken him totally by surprise. Along with lust, admiration for her sheer effrontery entangled itself in Christian's chest. Doing his best to bank both down he tried to look away.

"You get first prize for initiative, I'll give you that. What's next on the list?"

"Don't you dare laugh at me, I'm scared out of my wits."

He was still holding her by the elbow, Christian realized and dropped it as though it had scalded him.

"How about a glass of wine?"

"I plan to stay stone cold sober. I'm here to seduce you."

"You chose the right nightgown, I turned you down remember." He said nastily.

"I sure do. But I've had three days to think about all your reasons, starting with Carrick. I'll never tell him I lost my virginity with you, and I don't see why you would, so hes out of the picture. That's the second thing on my list."

"Just how long is this list?"

"I want to seduce you. And you want to go to bed with me, I know you do. That's the third thing, seducer and seducee." her eyes narrowed militantly.

"Maybe I'll be the one doing seducing," He said with dangerous softness.

A hectic flush stained her cheekbones.

"I didn't think this would be so difficult, you can pour me a glass of wine after all." she said wildly.

Turning his back, Christian filled a crystal, long stemmed glass with ruby red wine, Passing it to her.

"Your playing with fire Ana you know that?" he said.

"I sure don't feel the slightest bit romantic," she took a big gulp of wine, plunked the glass down on the priceless antique desk and said, ticking off her fingers, "Carrick's no longer an issue. You're not involved with anyone else. And at twenty two, isn't it time to play with fire?"

"I won't marry you." he said with no diplomacy whatsoever.

She tilted her chin even higher.

"Affair versus commitment, That's number four on the list. This will be a Venetian affair. Short and sweet. I don't want marriage, or anything approaching marriage, I told you that already. Freedom, independence and lots of space and what I need. You don't want marriage or a long term commitment high potential for boredom and too predictable. Se we're in total agreement." she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

It was ridiculous to be irked because her dislike of marriage equaled his own. Although, Christian had to admit, he was as far from bored as he could be, and once again she'd proven herself utterly unpredictable. And he knew people. She'd also had control of this discussion for too long.

"If freedom means you can seduce six other guys along with me, the deals off." he said curtly.

"Are you nuts?" her jaw dropped.

"No. For as long as we're lovers assuming that's what's going to happen, I'll be faithful to you. And I'll expect the same of you."

"Well of course. Although you're talking as though this affair's going to last a whole lot longer than two days." her eyes narrowed.

"Who knows? We might have to prolong our stay in Venice." he said.

"Not indefinitely, we can't"

"On the other hand, we might decide to leave tomorrow morning." he raised one eyebrow.

"Are you playing games with me?" her frown deepened.

"It's a fine concept, A Venetian Affair. Should I choose to extend into An Adelaide Affair, Which I admit doesn't have quite the same ring, I'll no doubt like that too."

"You don't want commitment!"

"I want fidelity, and when either one of us decides to end the affair, we say so. Up front. Weather that happens in Venice, Adelaide or Tierra del Fuego." he said in a hard voice.

BY now Ana was scowling.

"You're doing your CEO act again."

"I'm the one calling the shots that's they way I operate. So now It's my turn to ask a question. You're a virgin. There must have been men in your life, but for your own reasons, you didn't let them close enough to get to first base."

"I'm not a baseball game, I'm a women!"

"I'm very aware that you're a women. Why me? Why now?"

"That's two questions," she said fractiously.

"So it is," Christian said, and waited for her to answer.

She took another gulp of wine. Folding her arms over her chest.

"I've been into control for as long as I can remember, probably because I had none as a child. But you and I when we get within ten feet of each other, control goes into a tailspin. I'd never even felt desire for a man until I met you. How naive is that and if you ever tell anyone, I'll kill you. But, Christian, whether I call it desire or lust or chemistry or hormones or even romance," she said rapidly and added with a weak grin, "It's still the most powerful feeling I've ever experienced. And I want to act on it. Now. With you."

"Even though you are scared out of your wits?"

Again she swallowed, the muscles moving in her throat.

"Guess so."

"So you agree to all my terms? Fidelity, no commitment, and when the time comes, a good clean ending?"

"Are you always this cold blooded?"

"Yes. I am. Saves trouble in the long run." he said.

"Alright I agree," she said in a smothered voice.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

He moved closer, watching her eyes dilate. The fear was all too real, he thought. If he bedded her was to mean anything to either of them, it was up to him to lay it to rest. In one swift movement he picked her up, holding her against his bare chest.

"Come with me." he said.

She made an indecipherable sound in her throat, her body was a bundle of rigid muscles, and he could almost feel her nerves vibrating. From nowhere came a flash of admiration for her courage. It was up to him to relax her, too. More strongly than he's wanted anything for a very long time, he suddenly realized he wanted Ana to enjoy being in bed with him.  
It was her first time.  
So this lovemaking was more about her than about him, he thought, kicking open the bedroom door. Not totally altruistic that would be pushing it too far, and he was no saint. But definitely focused on the women in his arms rather than on his own need. Wasn't that new for him?

He'd never gone to bed with her, and already she was changing him in ways he didn't understand.  
He walked across the spacious, elegant living room into his bedroom, where through the open blinds moonlight splashed across the dark waters of the lagoon. Putting her down beside his bed, he stripped back the covers.

"Lie down, Ana. I'll be right with you."

She sat down on the vary edge of the bed, looking as though the slightest provocation would send her into full flight. Quickly he went to his toilet kit in the bathroom, found the foil envelopes and brought a couple back into the bedroom, laying them on the bedside table.

"Oh God, I never even thought of that." Ana gasped.

"Then it's a good thing I did," Christian said.

Taking his time he lit every candle in the room and pushed the door shut, so that the only light came from the moon and from the clustered blue and yellow flames.  
Then he walked over to the bed and sat down beside her.  
She was clutching her robe to her chest, her hands white knuckled.

"I'm the one who instigated this, I don't know why I am so scared." she blurted.

"You've never been with a man before, why wouldn't you be scared?"

In the dark depths of his irises, Ana could see tiny pinpoint of fire. To her nostrils, unmistakable, drifted the scent of his skin. She'd know him anywhere, she thought and how could she possibly loose her virginity with anyone other then him? She was behaving like a wishy washy Victorian heroine who was terrified of her fate. She sat straight up on the bed.

"If you kissed me, I bet I'd feel better." she said.

"You have the courage of ten lions," Christian said.

Christian lowering his head. His lips brushed hers with a sensuality that shivered along her nerves. She closed her eyes, the better to savor it, and felt his hands, warm and very sure of themselves drop to her shoulders. With a small whisper of surrender she brought her own hands to rest on his chest. The roughness of his body hair, the heat of his skin, licked along her nerves with delicate flickers of fire.  
As thought he was so closely attuned to her that he knew her every mood, Christian deepened his kiss, his tongue dancing with hers, his teeth grazing her lower lip. She let her palms glide over his chest, searching out the hard curve of rib bone, then the bumps of his spine. Learning his body. Within her, heat leaped to flame. Against his mouth she whispered.

"I'm where I want to be. Here. With you."

"Right now, I wouldn't want you to be anywhere else in the world," he muttered and was suddenly devouring all the sweetness of her mouth in a kiss that ripped through her.

In a flood of gratitude and desire, she twisted in his arms. He pulled her onto his lap, her robe slipping from her shoulders. She shrugged out of it, longing to feel skin on skin, her breasts aching for his touch. As if he had read her mind, he cupped their weight in his palms, teasing her nipples until she threw her head back, whimpering his name.

"So beautiful," he said hoarsely.

Emboldened, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his body and felt his hardness thrust between her thighs. He wanted her. But had she ever doubted that?

Shuddering, her breath caught in her throat, she whispered "We've got to many clothes on."

"Look down." he said.

HE was stroking her breast through her gown, her flesh like the ivory petals of a rise, the aureole a darker bud. Again she shuddered, wondering if she could die from sheer pleasure.  
Gracefully she lifted her arms over her head and watched him draw her gown up her body, then slide it over her head.  
His eyes drank her in, such an intensity of passion in them that suddenly Ana wanted to weep.  
He slicked her nipples with his tongue. Sensitized, scorched, so aroused she scarcely knew where she ended and he began, she molded herself to him, clasping him by the hips, glorying in the jut of bone and tautness of muscle.  
With a gentleness that was laced with both daring and shyness, she edged the waistband of his sweatpants downward, and wrapped her fingers around his hard heated member.

"You destroy me." he said roughly.

"I..."

His eyes speared into her soul, she thought helplessly.

"Ana with me you're free, free to do whatever you want to."

"So making love can be another kind of freedom?"

He never thought so because he never made love.

"For you, right now, it can be." he said.

The words tumbled from her lips. "I've never touched a man like this. Never been naked with a man before."

iIt was an odd time for Christian to feel a sudden flick of fear.  
Pushing it aside he brought her palm to his mouth, smoothing it with his lips, feeling her fingers curl confidingly in his. Then he found the pulse in her wrist, feeling it flutter beneath his lips.

"Do you like what we are doing?"

Her chuckle was spontaneous. "Like it? Understatement of the year! Oh, Christian, I didn't realize lovemaking was like this. So overwhelming, so powerful, yet there's a place for laughter."

"We've only just begun." he said, swiftly he rolled over, carrying her with him. Stripping his sweats from his body, he kicked them aside. Then he drew her to lie beside him, length to length.

He was magnificent, Ana thought. Aroused. Male to her female. So focused on her that it made her tremble.  
He was kissing her again, long, drugged kisses that throbbed through her until her whole body was liquid with longing. Lifting himself on his elbows, he hovered over her, his mouth lingering on her throat, on the delicate hollows beneath her collarbone, on the twin peaks of her breasts, swollen and agonizingly sensitive.  
She arched, running her nails down his spine, feeling his thighs push hers apart and sink between them. His fingers, infinitely skillful, found her warmth and wetness, teasing, skimming, until it was unbearable. She bucked under his touch until the rhythms mounted to a climax that plunged her into that place where she was most intensely herself yet suffused with him in every cell of her body.  
Very slowly she came back to herself.

"You did it again." she whispered. sliding her fingers down his body, burying then in the tangled dark hairs on his torso. "But I want more. I want to be filled with you Christian. To know what that's like...won't you show me?"

No barriers, he thought. Only trust. And felt again that fugitive nibble of fear.  
Holding tight to restraint, wanting her to be more than ready when he entered her, he traced all her curves again with his lips and hands. Her heartbeat was like a hammer in his ear, her quickened breathing and her roaming hands assaults to his control. But not until she was frantic with need did he deal with the foil package, then gently ease himself between her legs.  
She was lying beneath him, her hair a chestnut swirl on the pillow, her eyes like dark pools in which he could drown. She grasped him by the waist, opening to him. Inexperienced, generous and heart stopping passionate she was all of those things, he thought. And, right now she was his.

He trust deeper. A flash of pain crossed her face and was as quickly subdued. Braced, he held himself still with a huge effort.

"I don't want to hurt you." he gasped.

She arched upward, gathering him in.

"Yo won't. You aren't. Christian, take me, oh please..."

Deeper and deeper he thrust, until she closed around him like a silken glove, her inexpert movements inflaming him beyond bearing. But even then, he waited until he saw the same storm gather in her face, heard her broken cried and felt her inner throbbing. Pushed to the edge, to the very brink, Christian could hold back no longer. His own rhythms seized him, powerful and implacable. Watching her face, he fell with her and spiraled to release.  
Trying not to let his whole weight rest on her, he dropped his forehead to her shoulder, his chest heaving. Her skin smelled sweetly of lavender, he could feel her blood racing in her veins. Fighting for breath, he muttered, "Are you okay?" And raised his head for her response.

She took his face in her hands, her smile radiant.

"I feel, oh, Christian, what words do I use? Joined to you. Fulfilled. Light as air, joyous as a rainbow." she laughed, a deep belly laugh that, involuntarily, curved his own mouth in response. "I feel wonderful, fantastic, splendorous. If you want to ass okay to that, go ahead."

"You're very good for my ego," he said dryly.

Sobering, she muttered, "You took care of me. Waited for me, made sure I was ready. Thank you for that because it cost you. I could tell."

"You weren't supposed to see that," he said uncomfortably.

"Next time I don't want you to hold back."

"I figure we could manage that in about five minutes, how about it?"

"Oh, Really? That soon?" she blushed.

"That soon."

"You still want me? I mean. I wasn't exactly..."

"You were prefect, And in a few minutes I'll show you how much I still want you." he said briefly.

She gave another ripple of laughter. "I like being in bed with you!"

"Good because I plan on spending a fair bit of time here in the next few hours. I don't have any meetings until noon tomorrow and I'm sure the hotel can manage without me all morning, I'll be back in a minute." he eased out of her embrace.

In the bathroom, Christian regarded himself in the mirror. Same face, he thought. Same body. But something was different. In the big bed in the next room, with a chestnut haired woman, he'd shifted to a new place.

Ana's generosity, untutored and shy though it had been, was the essence of Ana, nothing to do with the fact that he was filthy rich. Ana hadn't been responding to the Grey billions, she'd been responding to him. Christian. So for him, also, this lovemaking had been a first time, he thought the first time he'd ever been able to fully trust his bed partners passion.  
Wasn't that, deep down, what he'd always wanted? Yet for some unknown reason, every nerve he possessed was on edge.  
One thing he knew, the Venetian Affair was going to travel to Venezuela and Australia, and even back to Maine. It could take quite a while to get Anastasia Steele out of his system.  
He wasn't done with her.  
Not anywhere near it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey there my lovely readers, Here is another update. It is a very small one but there will be more coming today I promise.**

 **But first I would like to respond to some of the reviews that I have gotten from the past couple of chapters =]**

 **First up is Marina. Thank you so much for your words of encouragement I love hearing that people like reading this story.**

 **Second one is from a guest asking me to make sure that Christian doesn't get another sub after Ana, I am sorry to say but there isn't any bondage in this story. I was going to write something with BDSM in it but the amount of ones like that out there just got me and I wanted to do a story that was completely different =] And I do not plan at this moment to put them with anyone else.**

 **Third is a big one actually, someone asked me how Christian reconciles that he is her uncle. Okay so he ISN'T really her uncle. He has no blood relation to her because he was adopted so technically everything that they are doing is legal and not incest.**

 **I hope you guys like this update. And let me know what you think. until the next update lovelys enjoy!**

Chapter Sixteen:

Christian and Ana stayed for two more days on the little island in the Venetian lagoon. As she folded her clothes into her suitcase on the morning of their departure, Ana knew she wasn't ready to leave. Christian was shaving in her bathroom, she could see him through the open to the waist. Lean, muscular and sexy.  
She had sex on the brain, she thought irritably.  
When they left here, was the affair over?  
She'd told Christian it would be a Venetian Affair, finished when they left the hotel. Which just went to show how ignorant, how totally out of touch with reality a twenty two year old women could be.  
While he hadn't exactly agreed to her conditions, not for a million dollars would she ask him if it was really over. Too humiliating.  
Christian leaned forward over the sink and splashed water on his sight of her in the mirror, he smiled at her, A smile that tugged her heartstrings. She should end the affair now, she thought frantically, before she got in any deeper. Although wasn't she way over her head anyway?  
Clutching the scrap of white nightgown she'd worn that first night.

"We've spent a lot of time in bed the last couple of days." Ana said.

He grinned, a partial grin that caused once more, she thought in horror desire uncurl lazily in her belly.

"Be accurate, We've spent a lot of time making love. Occasionally we managed to make it to the bed." he said.

"In the bathtub up to our neck in bubbles. On the Aubusson carpet halfway under the table. Up against the wall right here in this room, we nearly knocked the picture down." she said in a bold voice.

"I never liked that picture."

"Where haven't we made love?"

"The lobby?" Christian said with another of those devil may cry grins.

"A girl has to draw the line somewhere," she said primly.

He laughed, striding back into the room, catching her by the waist and waltzing her around the very same carpet. In embarrassing detail, she remembered how she'd straddled him, ridden him, her naked breasts cupped in his hands...  
Christian stopped by the chaise lounge and looked her up and down. She was wearing a business suit tailored in dark green linen, her cream silk blouse very feminine, her exquisite legs in silken hose.

"You look good enough to eat," he said, bent his head and kissed her.

So much for makeup, she thought to herself. Wrenching her head free she heard herself say.

"Is that our last kiss?"

"What are you talking about?" His eyes narrowed.

"We're leaving Venice."

"Are you telling me you want the affair to end?"

"Do you?" she tilted her chin, she didn't want to admit that she couldn't bare it if it was to end.

"Where the hell have you been for the last two days?" he said, exasperated.

"Men turn sex on and off. I've read about it in books."

If it hadn't been for the desperation in her voice, Christian might have laughed. Schooling his features to impassivity, he said. "You're stereotyping me, you're guilty of sexism. Oh, Anastasia, I'm disillusioned."

"Stop making fun of me." she glared at him.

"Do you think I want our affair to end?"

"I...I guess not."

"Brilliant deduction, if anything, I want you more now than I did two days ago." he said dryly.

The blush started at her throat and crept up her cheeks all the way to her hairline.

"Me too, But we're going back home, we cant..." she said in a small voice.

"We can do what we like. We are consenting adults."

"A Venetian Affair, take two?" she said, engulfed in a flood of emotion that she quickly labeled relief.

"You catch on fast. We've got to stop at another Grey hotel before we head back to the states. But it won't take long. Then we will fly straight to Kentucky." He hesitated.

"Kentucky? I thought we were going back to Manhattan first. Or Maine" she said puzzled.

"Carrick deeded me his Kentucky thoroughbred farm a few years ago. I found out that the nearest neighbors are throwing a big party on the weekend. A good chance to introduce you to society."

"Thanks for asking me first!"

"There wasn't time. Are you finished pacing? We should leave soon." he said impatiently.

"Take two of this affair can always be canceled." Relief was swallowed in temper.

"Yeah?" he said, plummeted into her mouth, laced his tongue with hers, and with one hand found the silken curve of her breast. And judged the precise moment when temper flared into passion.

He'd jammed her against an antique table bearing a priceless fourteenth century gold vase.  
Ana gripped him by the buttocks, thrust against his erection and wondered how she could have contemplated ending an affair that had wound in itself around her, body and soul.  
Soul? This was about her body, she thought widely. And only her body. Then she stopped thinking altogether.  
With an abruptness that shocked her, Christian pushed her away. He was breathing hard, his grey steel eyes fired with emotions she couldn't have begun to guess.

"The water ferry will be at the dock in ten minutes, I'll meet you in the lobby." he said.

The door shut decisively behind him.

"Fucking hell," Ana said as she shoved the nightgown into the suitcase.

This affair was about sex, nothing but sex, it wasn't remotely about her soul. She'd do well to remember that. She marched into the bathroom and repaired her lipstick. Her cheeks were still bright pink, and her blouse was halfway out of her waistband.  
What was happening to her? 


	17. Chapter 17

**Here is some more my lovely's. Enjoy!**

Chapter Seventeen:

It wasn't until Christian's jet landed at the airport that Ana realized their destination.

"Madrid? Why here?" she said uncertainly, breaking the silence between them for the first time since the jet had taken off.

"The hotel's having staff problems, I'd rather deal with it face-to-face than by fax."

Madrid, the place where she had grown up, and where she'd lived for the first few years of her life. Not sure how she felt about being back here, Ana sat quietly during the drive into the city. The baroque style hotel was in old Madrid, near the Plaza Mayor, the lobby, with its silk wall hangings, gold leaf columns and paintings, took her breath away.  
As always Christian was greeted with respect and warmth. He held a low voices conversation with the manager, then turned to Ana.

"There's a private room off the lobby, we'll have a snack there before we start work." he said.

She followed him past a huge vase filled with a bouquet of orange and purple birds of paradise and admitted to herself that she wasn't up for dealing with staff problems. Maybe she could suggest that she test the mattress in one of the rooms, she thought wryly. Alone. To catch up on her sleep.  
Christian pushed pen a door marked Private and ushered her ahead of him. She walked in, then stopped dead.

A women in an austere charcoal suit was standing on the Persian carpet. She was middle aged, her sleek black hair wrapped in chignon, her profile as imperious as an eagle's.  
All the color drained from Ana's face. Grabbing the door handle for support.

She gasped, "Bella! But...they told me you were dead."

"They were wicked, selfish and cruel," the women announced. "May they languish in limbo. May they burn in hell." a fierce smile lit up her face. "I am very much alive as you see."

"It's really you? It can't be!"

Than the older woman smiled again, a smile so full of love that Ana was wrenched backward through the years to a little girl in a playground whose nanny was smiling at her as she pushed her higher, higher and ever higher on the red wooden swing.

"You're grown up, chica." Ysabel said.

"Oh, Bella..." Swiftly Ana crossed the room and flung her arms around the other women.

"I would have known you anywhere, I always knew you would be beautiful. I worried for you because of that beauty." Ysabel said raggedly, tears trickling down her cheeks.

"You use the same perfume," Ana said in a choked voice.

"When I came to your lodgings that day and found you were gone, all three of you in the night. no address, no word of where you had gone. I was heartbroken. I tried to find you but I couldn't find you. I missed you chica, I missed you so much." Ysabel murmured holding Ana tightly.

"I cried for days...until Elliot finally told me that you'd died. I believed him, why wouldn't I? But I shouldn't have." Ana straightened, gazing into Ysabel's eyes.

Elliot Gry could say the sky was green and the whole world would believe him, It was his only talent." Ysabel snapped, wiping the tears from her face.

"But..." Ana's brain finally began to work. "How did you get here? How did you know I'd be here today?"

"Signor Grey," Ysabel said glancing over her shoulder to Christian. "He contacted me three days ago, told me he'd bring you Madrid if I wished to see you again. See you? Of course I wanted to see you! His news made me so happy, Ana, so very happy."

Christian shifted his feet, he'd positioned himself near the door. When Ana turned to face him, her delicate features were glowing with a happiness that he had never seen before. But he noticed, not even being face to face with a women she'd loved, and whom she'd thought dead for years. Not even that had made her cry. Why was she so afraid of tears?  
Was he complaining? Hadn't he dreaded the prospect of two weeping females in the same room, he who never involved himself in the private lives of his women?

"It was nothing. A matter of hiring a couple of investigators." he said rapidly.

"you couldn't have given me a better gift," Ana said huskily. "Anyone with a credit card can buy emeralds. Or diamonds. Or even yellow sweetheart roses. But to find Ysabel for me...Thank you Christian, Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

She'd never looked more beautiful. With uncomfortable truth, his thoughts marched on. Over the years, he'd brought various women diamond earrings, bracelets and watched. Forking over his credit card as casually as if he was ordering a martini. It was the way he operated, and it had served him well.  
If pushed to the wall, could he remember the name of all those women?  
No, he couldn't. What was it about Ana that made her so different from the rest? That made him behave so atypically?

"We're booked into the suite on the top floor, Ana. Why don't you spend the day with Ysabel, there's a limo available for you near the front entrance. Then we could all have dinner together, and you and I will leave for the states tomorrow morning." he said abruptly.

"The appropriate response when someone thanks you is to say, you're welcome." Ana said.

"You're welcome," he said dryly, and heart the commonplace phrase echo in his ears. You're welcome...you're welcome in my life.

He was loosing it. And Ysabel was glancing from him to Ana with a speculative glint in her dark eyes. With a brief salute Christian left the room, heading for the front desk and the far more manageable problems of the cashier who might have been dipping into the till and a chef who wanted forty percent raise in his pay.  
Yes he was running away.  
So what?

At nine thirty that evening, Ana and Ysabel were standing near the front door of the hotel, where the limo was waiting to drive Ysabel home to her charming little apartment, She and Ana had, had lunch there.

"It was a wonderful day, Ysabel. And you'll come for a visit in October won't you?" Ana said throwing her arms around Ysabel.

"Of course Chica I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Swiftly Ysabel tapped over the sidewalk to the limo, waved once and was driven away. Again, there had been tears on her cheeks.  
Ana hurried back into the lobby. She knew exactly what she was going to do, and knew, too that Christian would be at the kitchen observing the chef and his underlinings at the hight of dinner preparation for at least another half an hour.  
Upstairs in the suite, she lugged the chaise lounge around so it faced the door. Next she showered, smoothing body lotion over her skin and painted her toenails a vibrant scarlet. Finally she took out the bag she had carefully packed away in Venice, donned its contents and arranged herself on the lounge.

Nothing left to do now but wait.

Outside the suite, Christian yanked off his tie. If he ever saw another temperamental chef in his life, it would be too soon. Trouble is, the man could cook like a dream and didn't he know it.  
He'd gotten a twenty nine percent raise and had promised never to hold a deboning knife to the pastry chef's throat again.  
All in a days work, Christian turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door.  
His heart gave a great thud in his chest. As he pulled the door shut and clicked the latch, the flames of perhaps a hundred candles waved in the air.

"Well, should I call security? Tell them that there is a strange women in my suite? Although, come to think of it, that body looks familiar." he said.

She gave him a smoldering snort of laughter, she was wearing a Venetian carnival mask painted gold with black rimmed eyes, high cheekbones and brilliant red lips. It was surrounded by a froth of scarlet net.  
A net ruff circled her throat. A scarlet and gold fan had been strategically placed at the juncture of her thighs. Otherwise she was as naked as the day she was born.

"Jazzy toenails, not bad breasts either." Christian added.

She raised the fan and waved it over her mask. Again the candles flickered.

"Or should I be the one to phone security? Would it be premature to warn them that I'm in grave danger? Of being seduced that is." she said, her voice muffled by the mask.

He threw his tie on the coffee table, following it with his shirt. Then he loosened his leather belt.

"I'd say you have about five seconds to make that phone call."

"I could wait. A little danger adds spice to the life." she whispered, her green eyes gleaming through the mask.

By now his heart was hammering against his rib cage. He kicked off his shoes and socks, let his trousers drop to the floor and yanked down his briefs. Fully aroused, he walked over to the lounge, knelt down beside it and buried his mouth between her legs.  
Her skin smelled delicious. Taking his time, he moved to her ankle, slid his lips up the inside of her calf and heard her gasp his name.  
Raising himself higher, he eased her thighs apart and eased his fingers into all the wetness and heat he knew would be waiting for him. Her body arched, slender, smooth as silk, utterly familiar and unbelievably erotic.  
She was moaning, her hips undulating, her rapid breathing was all the encouragement he needed. Swiftly he rose to hover over and plunged into her. As she cried out, rising to meet him the fan dropped with a small clatter to the floor. Writhing, her movements driving him mad, she took him in, deeper, deeper, until he was lost. His hoarse cry release mingled with her scream of ecstasy, their blood beating as one.  
He let his head drop, feeling seat bead his forehead.

"You've wrecked me." he said.

She'd fallen back on the pillows, her breasts rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.

"I have to take the mask off," she muttered.

"Can't take the heat?"

He let himself rest on top of her, fumbling with the ruff and tugging it free of her throat. Then he reached for the elastic at the back of her head and eased the mask from her face.  
She smiled at him with sudden endearing shyness.

"I wanted to surprise you." she said.

"You more than succeeded, I forgot all about my homicidal chef." he gave a bark of laughter.

"I aim to please sir," she said demurely.

She did please him, he thought, staring at her without really seeing her. She pleased him beyond measure. And what the hell did that mean?  
A delicate flush wafted over Ana's cheeks, she had no idea what he was thinking.

"I can't thank you enough for today, For the girl of Ysabel." she said.

"So is this about gratitude?" He flicked her nipple with his tongue, watching her eyes widen.

"I don't know what it's about. But I wanted to give you something in return for what you did today. Not something from the shops, that's to easy and you have everything you need anyway." she said with raw honesty, reaching up to stroke his hair from his forehead.

Did he? If that was true, why was he desperate to ravish the women he'd just ravished only moments ago?

"We could move to the bed. I'm the one in danger now, of falling off this goddamn lounge." he said.

"it wasn't designed for two. Why do I get the feeling you don't like gratitude?"

He grinned at her. "Because I don't. Hell, Ana, of course I did my best to locate Ysabel. I'd have to have a heart of stone not to. She's the only person you ever loved."

"It was the most wonderful gift you woyld have given me, Glad you liked my mask." Then her own grin flashed across her face.

"It was the fan that did me in." he stood up and lifted her into his arms. "Bed, Now!. Are any of these candles about to set the place on fire?" he said.

"You and I are going to do that." she murmured, tracing his lips with her fingertip.

Sensation, raw and primitive, surged straight to his erection. His last thought before he carried her into the bedroom was that tomorrow he was going to buy her emeralds, because he wanted to make love to her when she was wearing nothing but an emerald necklace.  
Would he ever have enough of her?  
The day or night he thought with a touch of grimness, would arrive when he would have had enough of her. Or, for that matter, she of him. That was the way it worked.  
Inevitable.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey there lovely readers, here is another chapter for you all. Thank you all for the lovely reviews and your thoughts on this story.**

Chapter Eighteen:

The next day, under a moody grey sky, Ana fell in love.  
Grey Acres was a sprawling expanse of rolling green fields, freshly painted white rail fences and groves of tall trees whose leaves rustled in the wind. And horses, she thought, getting out of the car to stretch the day's travel from her legs. Like a women hypnotized, she crossed neatly cropped grass and leaned on the top rail of the fence.  
Mares were grazing in the field, lazily swishing their tails against the flies, their coats glossy with good health. Foals slept on the grass, frolicked on the hillside and nudged for their mothers milk. When Christian came up behind her she said dreamily, "I'd made up my mind I wanted to work at the chateau. But now I want to be a stable hand and learn all about the horses."

"You can do both," he said, watching her rapt face.

"They're so beautiful."

He's always loved Grey Acres, ever since he's taken it over on his twenty fifth birthday.

"Have you eve ridden one?"

"Never."

"I'll give you a lesson before dinner, want to check out the barn?"

"Oh, yes."

"Let me go ahead and make sure the dogs aren't around."

"How many dogs?" her face changed.

"Three. Purebred Kelpie's. Very well trained."

Something he couldn't figure out flashed across her face and was gone. She rolled her shoulders, as if trying to rid them of tension.

"I'll wait here for you," she said.

Once Christian signaled to her from the door, she entered the dim, spacious barn, which smelled sweetly of hay and was extremely clean. Taking her time, Ana went from stall to stall. Rubbing noses and doling out carrots. She met Jose, the head groomsman, and won him over by her frank avowal of total ignorance and her wish to learn all she could in the next couple of days.  
Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of old jeans and a sweatshirt, she had her first lesson with a currycomb and a mild mannered gelding named BillyJ. Then she was put to work with a can of saddle soap and an old leather harness.  
Christian left her to her own devices and went inside to phone Tiffany's.  
When he came back out, wearing jodhpurs and well worn riding boots, Ana was in the ring with the same gelding, as Jose supervised her first lesson with the lunging line. While BillyJ wasn't about to break any of the rules, Christian could tell right away that Ana had an instinctive feel for the animal at the other end of the line, the kind of feel you couldn't be taught.  
Bow legged and grizzled, Jose strolled over to the fence.

"She's got the touch, Thought I'd put her up on Arabesque." he said briefly.

"Good choice. Believe it or not, she's never been near a horse before today."

Jose pushed back his cap. "She listens. Doesn't forget what you tell her." he said.

"High praise."

"We'll see if she's got lasting power."

Christian's conscience gave him a nasty nudge. It wasn't Ana's lasting power that was the issue, it was his own. Love em and leave em Grey... he'd been called that ever since he was old enough to date.

"I's suspect she has." he said, and knew he was talking about more than horses.

Jose shrugged. "You'll take Galaxy later?"

"after Ana has a riding lesson. If you can keep the dogs away from her, I'd appreciate it. She has a real phobia."

"I'll only leave them loose in the barn at night. But we should introduce her to them."

When BillyJ was back in his stall, placidly munching hay. Christian walked up to her.

"Ana , you have to meet the dogs, just in case you come across them unexpectedly. They're trained guard dogs and once they know you're a resident they won't bother you. Jose and I will be here, you don't have a worry in the world." Christian said.

She bit her lip. Nothing came without a cost, she'd learned that a long time ago. If in order to spend time with the horses she had to face three dogs, she could handle it.

"Okay," she said in a small voice.

"Jose, would you bring them in?" Christian asked.

Jose ambled off. Although Ana braced herself, when Jose came around the corner with three large Keplie's on leather leashes, she shrank backward.

"You're safe, I won't let anything happen to you." Christian said.

You don't know the first thing about me, she thought. Again Ana bit her lip forcing the words back where they brought the dogs closer.

"Just let them sniff you, Spirit, Tex, Ranger. Friend got it?" he said.

Three tails wagged. Then Jose wheeled in a half circle and led the dogs away.

"That's it?" Ana mumbled.

Christian rubbed the tension from her shoulders.

"To think I once called you a coward. I should have been shot on the spot." he said wryly.

Her body jerked as though he'd hit her, her eyes barricaded against him.

"you did say riding lesson?"

"Anytime you're ready."

The riding lesson was a revelation to Ana. She sat quietly on the white mare named Arabesque, her hands relaxed on the reigns, and before the lesson ended she had mastered the art of posting in the saddle. As she slid to the ground, her smile was brilliant.

"Can we have another lesson tomorrow?"

"You're going to be sore tomorrow."

"You trying to get out of it?"

"Ten a.m. after you've cleaned three stalls and polished a couple of saddles. In the afternoon, I'll give you a crash course on the finances of breeding thoroughbreds."

"Slave driver," she said amiably and led Arabesque into the barn.

She rubbed the mare down, told Jose she'd see him in the morning and trailed behind Christian to the house. It was an antebellum mansion, painted white like the fences, with a host of brick chimneys and mullioned windows shot with the golden rays of the setting sun.  
As Christian opened the side door she said, "You have such a good report with Jose, with all of your employees for that matter, it doesn't fit your CEO act."

He gave a short laugh. "I worked on a cattle ranch in Argentina and a dude ranch in Montana, I know what it's like to look after other people's animals."

"You did? When? And why?" she said, her frown deepened.

What was the harm in telling her?

"When I was twenty. I traveled around the world for two years on a shoestring, no money other than what I earned with my own two hands. I loaded pulpwood in Alaska, sorted scrap iron in China you name it I did it." he shrugged "You could say it was the making of me. It certainly shaped the way I run Grey Inc., and how I relate to my employees."

"Back at the island I accused you of living in an ivory tower. I'm sorry." Ana said with painful truth.

"Ivory tower, I'd be willing to bet, are dead boring places to live. You must be ready for a shower and dinner." he ushered her indoors.

Her mind still occupied with the image of Christian sorting scrap metal, she said absently, "More than ready in Madrid it's eleven at night."

"Shower, dinner and bed. Maybe you should sleep alone tonight. Sleep being the operative word." he said.

Ana stumbled on the staircase, forgetting about the younger Christian. Perhaps, she thought sickly, their affair had been a European Affair, fine in Venice and Madrid but finished now that they were back on home territory. Scrabbling for a vertiage of self control she said cooly. "I am quite tired."

"It's been a long day."

Christian was marching her along a dimly lit hallway lined with depressing portraits of family ancestors. Scurrying to keep up with him Ana blurted.

"are you trying to break it to me gently?"

He stopped so suddenly that she cannoned right into him.

"Break what?"

"That the affairs over."

"All I want is for you to have a decent nights sleep!"

Her shoulders sagged. "So it wasn't just a European affair, its transatlantic?"

"Multinational, if we head out for Venezuela and Australia next week. This is the second time you've brought this up. Are you sure you don't want to end it yourself?"

"Yes! Or do I mean no?"

"what do you mean?"

"I don't want it to end!" Then she blushed, furious that she'd sounded so vehement. Pulling away from him, she muttered, "Well that was a dead giveaway."

Unease now added itself to the stirrings of Christian's conscience.

"I'm the first man you've ever slept with, Ana. Don't mistake it for more than it is will you?" he couldn't have given her a clearer warning. she thought.

"Don't fall in love with you, that's what you're saying."

"Precisely."

"I don't love you, But when we're together in bed... we both call it making love." she said sharply.

Choosing his words, aware even as he spoke how bland they sounded.

"We care for each other." he said.

"I like you." she said.

He should have expected her to speak her mind.

"Likings alright just don't carry it to the next step, that's all." he said.

"I won't I promise, where's the nearest shower? I stink." she snapped.

Christian opened the door to his left.

"These are your rooms, Mine are next door. Bedroom, bathroom and balcony overlooking the rose gardens, you'll find all you need. Dinners in half an hour."

His smile was impersonal. From somewhere Ana dredged up one that was equally cool and shut the door in his face, jamming the lock with vicious strength.  
She'd gotten the worst of that discussion. So Christian cared for her. He cared for Taylor didn't mean he liked his car too.  
Probably more. It didn't argue with him.  
Why did she want to fling herself face down on the bed and indulge in a storm of weeping? She never cried.  
She went through every swear word she could think of in every language she knew. Then she had a shower and put on a slinky black dress that, unlike her home made one, screamed sex.  
After dinner, a meal where she ate sparingly because her appetite seemed to have deserted her, she pushed back her chair and stood up. Her eyes glittering.

"I think I'll take you up on that offer to sleep alone. Goodnight Christian."

Christian surged to his feet. Candlelight flickering on the table.

"If you're interested in sleeping alone, you choose the wrong dress."

"I'll wear what I want." her nostrils flared.

He stepped closer, watching her fight the desire to retreat.

"You want me," he said roughly.

"I want you to go straight to hell."

"Then lets go together," he said and swept her up into his arms.

She kicked out at him, pummeling him on the chest with his fists. "Put me down."

He thrust the door open with one knee. "Quit struggling, you're not going to win."

"because you're bigger. Stronger. Tougher. Because you're a guy. Put me down Christian." she seethed with white rage.

So suddenly that she staggered, he dumped her on her feet. Then he thrust her against the wall, took her chin in his fingers and planted a kiss on her mouth so searing, so torrid that Ana locked her arms around his nape and kissed him back.  
She was furious with him, she thought dimly. She wanted him. Oh god, how she wanted him...  
He pulled his mouth free, then reached up and jerked her arms apart.

"Now you can go to bed...Alone." he snarled.

"What was that all about? Punishment because I dared to oppose the might Christian Grey?" rage scorched her cheeks.

"I wish it was that simple."

"So what was it about?"

"None of your goddamned business!"

Hands on her hips Ana glared at him. "I'm not the slightest bit in love with you, get that through your thick skull. In fact at this moment I don't even like you."

His jaw dropped.

"Oh, so that's what's wrong. You're in love with me." she said blankly.

"I am not!"

"Tha man doth protest too much, methinks. Shakespeare. I'm a librarian remember." she misquoted.

Determined not to be outdone Christian dredged his memory.

"I understand you kisses and you are mine, love goes towards love... Romeo and Juliet." He thought. He wasn't going to say any of that.

"Ana, in plain English. I am not in love with you. Got that?"

She staggered and artistically put the back of her hand on her forehead. "A poor lonely women."

Regrettably Christian laughed, "Oh sure. How about a compromise? We go to bed together and go straight to sleep."

"What are the odds of that?" she said with a gleem in her eyes.

"Only one way to know for sure."

"Your place or mine?" She said smirking.

He was still laughing as he ushered her into his bedroom.  
They didn't go straight to sleep, Christian had known they wouldn't. But eventually they did fall asleep, naked, tangled in each others arms. And the next morning, at dawn Ana woke up to find Christian leisurely tracing the long curve of her spine with his lips, his erection pressed into her hip. She lay still. Reluctant to let him know she was awake, her whole body in a trance of desire.  
He was kissing her shoulders, pushing her hair aside to kiss her nape, his fingers seeking out the soft fullness of her breast.  
Slowly, sensuously, she turned over, opening her arms to him.  
In utter silence, he made love to every inch of her body. As though he was worshiping it, she thought. As though she was special to him.  
Or was her imagination working overtime?

The storm, inevitably gathered them both, lifted them than hurled them to release. Still without saying a word, Christian enfolded her in his arms, dropping his cheek to her shoulder and drifted off to sleep again.  
But Ana found herself wide awake. Not moving a muscle her body satiated, she gazed at his sleeping features. He had, truly made love to her, there could be no other way to describe his generosity or his attention to her every need.  
She was the one who'd better phone security, she thought crazily, because she was in danger. In danger of falling in love with him, day after day, night after night, with such aching intimacy, and not fall in love with him?  
She'd be a fool to do anything so risky. Sooner or later the affair would end. Maybe not on this continent. Maybe not for weeks. But it would end.  
Terror, her old enemy, seized her in it's grip. She didn't want it to end. She couldn't even contemplate letting another man into her bed. It was Christian she wanted, and only him.  
Now and her mind quailed, forever.

That day Ana mucked out three stalls, watched Jose apply strong smelling lineament to a swelling on the foreleg of a stallion called Hyperion and had a riding lesson at ten with Christian.  
Knee grip, use of the bit, pressure on the turns and this time a thrilling, although too brief, canter around the ring. She then rubbed Arabesque down.  
After that, she worked a yearling on the lunge, closely supervised by Jose. A brief lunch, then Christian took her through the account books, and introduced her to the intricacies of tracking a thoroughbred's lineage.

A shower had never felt so good. After dinner, in preparation for the neighbor's ball, she and Christian had a dancing lesson in the empty, echoing ballroom. She loved music and he had an innate sense of rhythm, her brow knit with concentration, she added the foxtrot and waltz to her list of new skills. Then she followed him upstairs to his room, changed and fell into the bed.

"You haven't seen this night gown yet," she mumbled "I've been saving it up."

It was midnight blue, see through, so seductive Christian forgot his half formed plan to cool their affair for now. But as he leaned forward to brush her parted lips with his own, her lashes had already drifted to her cheeks, her breathing deepened.  
There were faint blue shadows under her eyes. Very carefully Christian eased down beside her on the bed.  
Ana had solved any question of him implementing his plan by falling asleep.  
He didn't know whether to be glad or sorry.

Ana woke sometime in the middle of the night. She had been dreaming. The images fled as soon as she opened her eyes, but the dream's mood, it's sense of entrapment, of fear and foreboding, lingered.  
Christian was deeply asleep beside her, his hair on the pillow in the light of a waning moon. One of his arms was flung over her ribs against her back, she could feel the strong steady beat of his heart.  
She should feel safe with him so close to her, all she had to do was wake him and he would comfort her.  
What if she got used to asking him for help? What then?  
Managing not to wake him, she slipped out of bed, found her barn clothes in a heap on the floor where she'd dropped them before dinner and got dressed. Trying to avoid floorboards creaking, she crept to the door and slid into the hall.  
A bewigged ancestor with a pursed mouth stared at her from the wall.  
The stables, she thought, that's where I'll go. The horses will make me feel better.

Her dream had been about Elliot and Carla, no one else had the power to drench her in dread. But she wasn't in her parent's power anymore, she thought. Checking that she had her keys before letting herself out the side door.  
Because of Carrick, she had money. Because of Christian she was learning about corporations, hotels, vineyards and thoroughbreds and she'd reconnected with Ysabel.  
She had choices now. As a child she'd had none.  
The night air was cool and damp, clouds smothering most of the stars. Soft footed, she walked to the barn, unlocked the grooms door with her key and closed it behind her. A horse whined a welcome, poking its head out of the stall.

"Hello, Galaxy," she said softly and started over the concrete floor toward him.  
In a rattle of claws, three Kelpie's lunged around the corner and ran right for her. Even in the dim light, she could see their teeth, white, sharp, and deadly. With a tiny gasp of dismay, she held her ground.  
There was nowhere to run.

"I'm your friend, Jose said so." she squeaked.

The dogs surrounded her, avidly sniffing her sneakers and jeans. Their tails wagging, she realized. Then the largest of the three sat back on his haunches, mouth agape as though he was laughing at her.  
Her dog in Amsterdam, her beloved Jake, had had a strong streak of Kelpie in his mixed ancestry. His eyes had been filled with the same golden alert intelligence.  
Ana dropped to her knees. Tentatively she put out her hand to the dogs collar, angling the tag so she could read the name on it.

"Spirit," she whispered and patted him on the shoulder.

He swished his tail on the concrete floor. The other two dogs were busy nosing her shirt, and suddenly it was too much. In a great upsurge of memory she ut her arms around Spirit and buried her face in his fur.  
The first sob pushed its way from somewhere deep that instantly, she was undone.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen:

Christian wasn't sure what woke him. A sound? The sense that he was alone in the big bed?  
"Ana?" she said, wondering if she had gone to the bathroom.  
He was answered by the silence of a sleeping house.  
Sitting up, switching on the bedside light, he saw that the bed was indeed empty and that the untidy heap of Ana's barn clothes were gone.  
Every instinct he possessed warned him to find her, and find her fast. He got up, threw on jeans and a T-shirt and headed out the door. He'd be willing to bet she'd gone to the barn, although he had no idea why.  
The dogs, he thought with a stifled curse. Jose had been leaving them loose in the barn at night.  
He took the stairs two at a time and hurried out the side door. No lights in the barn, and not a sound from the dogs. If she wasn't there, where was she?  
He unlocked the outer office door, where stud books were neatly arranged on the shelves and the small green lights on the computer shone coldly. The inner door to the barn, opened smoothly.  
Horror jolted through his body. The bogs had dragged her to the floor.  
He leaped forward. But then, belatedly, he realized that she had her arms around one of the dogs, and that she was weeping.  
Weeping as though her heart was broken, he thought, and stopped in his tracks. He'd never heard such pain, such profound sorrow. The sorrow of a lifetime, surely.  
Two of the dogs raised their heads, and one of them trotted over to him, burrowing a cold nose into his hand. But the third dog stayed where he was, unmoving, for Ana was sobbing into his fur, her shoulders heaving.

"Anastasia, don't be scared. It's me" Christian said quietly then knelt beside her and put his arm around her turning her into his chest.

Unresisting, her body shuddering in spasms of weeping, she fell into his embrace. Spirit nuzzled closer. Christian held onto the woman and the dog, knowing there was nothing he could do until she'd em pied herself of tears.  
She never cried. She was terrified of dogs. Yet he'd found her weeping her guts out in the middle of the night, surrounded by three very large dogs, one whom she was wrapped around as though she never wanted to let go.  
Thank god he'd woken up and he had the rest of the night to find out what was going on.  
Gradually her sobs became less frequent, her body sagging against him in utter exhaustion. Fumbling in his pocket he found a handkerchief and pressed it into her hand.

"Blow your nose, then I'll take you back to the house." he said.

Head lowered, she scrubbed at her nose and wet cheeks.

"I had a dog. in Amsterdam, the year I was sixteen. His name was Jake. Spirit looks like him." she quavered.

"What happened to him?" Christian asked, all his senses on high alert.

"Soon after I turned sixteen Elliot's luck ran out. He was shot dead outside a drug dealer's house only three blocks from where we lived. I heard about it and ran home to tell Carla. She was terrified. Told me to stay away from the flat for the next week, threw a couple of bills at me and said she'd meet me at the nearby hostel that night." Ana took a deep breath. "She didn't turn up that night, or the next two nights, she probably left on the first train the day Elliot was shot."

Christian's breath hissed through his teeth.

"When my money ran out I had no where to go. I was too frightened to go back to the flat. So I started roughing it on the streets. I found Jake the third day he was a stray, hanging around a dumpster. I panhandled at the station for the two of us and for a couple of months it went okay. He was a big dog, wouldn't let anyone near me...so I felt safe." Ana said flatly.

"But you weren't."

"One of the local gang leaders had his eye on me. Ysabel was right. I was too pretty for my own good. I was saving for a train ticket to Den Haag and I almost had enough money. But one day when I went to the back door of the restaurant looking for a handout, Hans was waiting for me."

In the dim light, Christian could see her eyes were drowning in remembering terror. Ana at sixteen, he thought. The year the investigator hadn't found a trace of her.

"He grabbed me, When Jake went for his throat, Hans shot him. Full in the chest. But even then, Jake managed to knock Hans down." she stifled a sob. "I ran. Ran faster then I've ever ran in my life, and by a miracle I managed to shake Hans off. I hopped a freight train that night and got out of town. The rest is history."

"You had to leave Jake behind. You couldn't even say goodbye." Christian stated the obvious.

Her face convulsed. "Jake and Ysabel, they both loved me and I lost them both."

"Jake saved your life. No wonder you didn't want anything to do with the dogs back home. At the time I misunderstood. You weren't scared of the dogs themselves. It was the memories that terrified you." Christian said, throttling down emotions that threatened to choke him, for her bleak account had shaken him to the root.

"When I reached Den Haag. I got a job washing dishes in a Chinese restaurant, from there it was uphill all the way. Cleaning offices at night, ushering in a theater, making cold calls for a market agency...you name it I've done it." She gave a watery smile.

"How did you get to the states?"

"Housekeeper on a cruise ship." she hesitated, adding in a low voice. "I should have told you all this back in Manhattan. But I couldn't. I just couldn't."

"You could make a donation to an animal shelter in Amsterdam in Jake's memory, you can afford to do that now."

"That's a wonderful idea." he face brightened. "I'll do it."

"Do me a favor , will you?"

"Of course."

"Everyday, write down some details of those weeks in Amsterdam. Describe where you slept every night, for instance. What markings Jake had."

"He'd lost the tip of one ear. I'll never forget how he growled when Hans grabbed me." she shivered.

"Ana you got yourself out of Amsterdam and you made it all the way to the island, where you built a life for yourself. But in the process you buried those nightmare sights and sounds. Time to resurrect them, that's all I'm saying." he gave a faint smile.

He gazed down at her, wishing he could banish the same images, a raised gun, a bleeding dog, a terrified teenager running for her life through the dark, garbage strewn alleys. He had the feeling they'd be with him for the rest of his life. He was also, he realized, seething with anger. At a world that allowed such things to happen, because six years ago he hadn't been there for her, hadn't even known she existed.  
She could have gone under so easy and been forever lost.  
He couldn't let the anger out now. it was the worst of times. He put his arm around Ana's waist.

"Right now, let's get you to bed. You have done more than enough for one night."

It was a measure of her tiredness that she made no argument. Keeping his emotions under tight rein, Christian walked her back to the house and chose her bedroom, rather than his for her to spend the rest of the night. With impersonal briskness he got her into bed and covered her with her blanket. But before she closed her eyes, she reached for his hand and pressed it to her lips.

"Thank you." she whispered, still clasping his fingers she fell into a stunned sleep.

But Christian stayed awake, sitting beside the bed. Keeping vigil, he thought soberly, as darkness faded from the sky and the first birds began to sing in the tall trees.  
He should never have started this affair. Ana had been damaged more than enough in her short life, without him adding to it. His affairs were always short lived. Worse this one was with the women who was Carrick's grand daughter. Christian would have an ongoing relationship with her for the rest of his life because of that fact whether he wanted to or not.  
Avoiding her totally would be impossible.  
He'd been an idiot in Venice, thinking with his hormones, not his brain cells. He should have sent her straight back to her room in the white gown.  
Damage control, he thought heavily. How was he going to accomplish that?  
One thing he could do, tangential though it was. He could confront Carrick with Elliot's sordid past, and ask why Elliot's existence had been kept a secret. Ask, too, why Carrick had never tried to contact Ana. It was due time for those ghosts to be laid to rest.  
As for him, he'd be better start keeping Ana at arm's length.  
Arm's length? he thought with vicious irony. He should end the affair right now, before any more damage was done.  
Which meant that never again would he hold her in his arms, naked, breathtakingly beautiful, so generous she made nonsense of any concept of distance...

 **Okay guys I know some of you might want to kill me after that chapter *Hides* But I hope you liked it none the less. I will be updating the next chapter as soon as possible.**

 **Don't forget to let me know what you think in the reviews =] Thank you all again.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey there my lovelies, I am so sorry that I haven't updated in a while. Life seems to have a way of taking over and then time just gets away from me.**

 **I know this chapter is a little small but I am going to try to get another chapter out tonight/today. Depending on where you are reading from =]**

 **I just wanted to say thank you all so much for the lovely reviews and please enjoy this small chapter.**

Chapter Twenty:

When Ana woke up, she was alone in her bedroom. It was sixteen past midday.  
The events of last night crowded into her mind. In a barn she'd broken one of her rules, never to tell anyone of the events of those terrible days after Elliot died. But she'd told Christian. Nor she thought, stretching the stiffness from her limbs, had the sky fallen.  
She scrambled out of bed, showered and went downstairs for lunch, hoping to find Christian there. However she had the vast dining room to herself. A note and a flat package were sitting beside her plate, the hand writing on the envelope was Christian's. She slit it open and quickly read the scrawled words.  
He had to go to Manhattan but he'd be back tomorrow in time for the ball.  
Jose would give her riding lessons the next two days. The package had been delivered this morning and he hoped she would wear the contents with her green dress. His signature was a slash of black ink.

No reason to feel uneasy. What had she expected that he'd sign it Love Christian? Or that he'd mention what had happened last night?  
Eating a deliciously light omelet, she looked at the flat box suspiciously. She might not be sophisticated, but she recognized the name Tiffany's.  
Open it, Ana. It's not going to bite.  
In the end, she took the package up to her room to open it with privacy. Anchored to a bed of soft white velvet, emeralds flashed green fire, a pendent with a single stone on a delicate gold chain, earrings with more emeralds dangling from tiny gold chains. A gold bracelet set with emeralds. She'd never in her life seen anything so beautiful.

Christian should be here. Why hadn't he waited to give them to her himself, tomorrow night? To circle her throat with the pendent, to kiss her nape...  
How could she be so ungrateful as to be critical of him?  
The uneasy feeling hadn't gone away, if anything it had magnified. She shoved the slim leather box into her top drawer, mucking out the stalls and pitchforking hay would improve her mood.  
Christian didn't call that day or the next.  
She shouldn't have told him about her past, Ana thought sickly as she twisted to do up the zipper on her green dress on the second evening. Sure he'd listened. But what choice did her have when she had been blubbering all over him?  
If only she could undo that scene in her brain.  
Through the open window, she heard the sound of a car approaching. Gazing out, she watched a limo draw up to the circular driveway, Christian climbed out, carrying an overnight bag and a briefcase and hurried tot he front door.  
Her hands were cold and her pulses racing. She was dreading the ball tonight, she realized, the speculative glances, the inevitable questions about her whereabouts for the last twenty two years. She'd know only one person there, Christian, and she'd had exactly one dancing lesson in her entire life.  
But she'd be adorned with a small fortune in emeralds, she thought with spurt of anger.  
Footsteps hurried along the hallway outside her room, passing her door. Christian's door shut with a crisp bang. Two minutes later she heard his shower start.  
If she was half as brave as he claimed she was, she'd go to his bedroom and offer to dry his back. He hadn't even taken the time to tap on her door, or to kiss her. It was as if she no longer existed.  
By making love with him, she'd trusted him with her body. But telling him about Jake and Hana, she'd trusted him with her soul.  
Her thoughts marched on. The decision never to talk about her past wasn't just about repression it was about self preservation as well. She had been smart to keep her past to herself. How many people wanted to associate with a woman who'd once been as homeless as a stray dog, on the run from drug dealers and gangs?

Obviously Christian didn't. He'd disappeared for two days and now he was ignoring her.  
She'd told him once that anyone with a credit card could buy emeralds. The jewels lying in their velvet lined case were indeed an empty gesture if he no longer respected her. If he no longer wanted her.  
Or was there more going on than that?  
Cold terror had uncoiled like a snake in her belly.  
She tried so hard to smother it. She wasn't going to fall apart again, not twice in forty eight hours. Once had been once too often.  
You've done more than enough for one night...as clearly as if she was back in the barn, she heard Christian's words echo in her head. At the time she'd taken then at face value. But now they were more ambiguous.  
He hadn't asked her to tell him the details about the past, he'd asked her to write them down for her own use. The difference was crucial.  
He didn't want to know the details.  
Her fingers were ice cold, Ana did up her thin strapped gold sandals. Quickly she inserted the earrings into her lobes and fastened the bracelet around her wrist. But despite her best efforts she couldn't manage to get her necklace on her neck. Then she say down and waited.  
The shower shut off. Five minutes later she heard Christian's door close again, and a decisive tap came at her door. She stood up, drawing composure around her like a cloak.

"Come in." she said.


	21. Chapter 21

**Another chapter up tonight =] Whoooooooo!**

 **So there is only about Four more chapters until this story is at it's end and that makes me extremely sad. But good news is I have another story in mind but I don't know if I should make it a Ana and Christian story or a twilight story.**

 **If you guys have any idea what one I should pick let me know in the reviews. So until next time, enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think.**

Chapter Twenty One:

Christian strode into Ana's bedroom. She was standing very still, a slim, wary figure in a gold embroidered dress that fit her like a glove. Tiny sparks of green shot from her earlobes and wrist.

"Sorry I'm late, are you ready?" He said abruptly.

He looked formidably elegant in his tux, yet untamed as the panther Ana had once compared him to. Neither had he, in her opinion, sounded overly sorry. She said with formal exactitude.

"Thank you for the emeralds."

"No worry, You're not wearing the pendent." he said, his touch of sarcasm grating on her nerves.

"I couldn't do up the clasp."

Christian looked at her in silence. Damage control, he thought. Keep your distance.  
She hadn't taken a single step toward him so his strategy was working. Now all he had to do was maintain it. Easy enough when he was in Manhattan and she was alone.  
Not so easy face to face with her, when she looked delicious enough to eat and was stationed scarcely two feet away from a very wide bed.  
Clumsily for him, Christian lifted the pendant from it's velvet bed, he had beds on the brain, he thought savagely and looped it around her neck. As she bent her nape, his fingers brushed her skin. A shiver rippled through her. His jaw tightened. Fumbling with the small gold clasp, he fastened it and stepped back.

"I'm ready." she said.

Her spine was ramrod straight. Knowing her better than to touch her, for if he did he'd be lost.

"We should go. It's a ten mile drive." Christian said, "You're not a horse going to the glue factory, Ana you're a beautiful women going to a high society shindig that lots of people would give their eyeteeth to attend." He added.

"I'm not lots of people," she said crisply, and draped her gold shawl around her shoulders.

Yet another Maserati, a black one this time, she noticed was parked outside waiting for them. Christian turned on the radio, effectively drowning out conversation, and Taylor drove fast along the dark, winding highway. Fast enough that she didn't want to look out the window.  
As the shadowed fields and black silhouettes of trees flashed by, the pride that had sustained Ana through years of unfulfilled jobs and mean lodgings came to her rescue. Be damned if she'd beg for Christians attention, or fall all over him because he'd given her a few pretty green baubles. Let his other women do that. She wasn't going to.  
But her nerves, she knew were stretched to the breaking point and as Taylor drive along an alley of live oaks toward a mansion whose every window gleamed with light, they tightened another notch.

If she could sleep wrapped in cardboard, she could face a roomful of strangers. Taylor pulled up by the wide arch of steps and turned off that ignition.  
Christian turned to her and drank her in.

"I'll stick with you and if they play the rumba, I'll make sure no one else asks you to dance." he said.

"Too bad I have such a limited repertoire," she said, her green eyes flashing she was spoiling for a fight. "I can always find a powder room, I'm sure you will find someone else to dance with you."

"I'm sure I could," He grated, got out of the car and opened her door.

They climbed the steps side by side, between an array of antique pots full of scented camellias, and were ushered in the massive oak door by a uniformed butler. A middle aged couple bustled toward them, the women plump in yellow cummerbund.

"Christian darling," the women exclaimed. "And this must me Carrick's grand daughter. You have his eyes, honey. Wasted on a man. I always said. I'm Mia Alden, and this is my husband, Chuck," she leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

As they passed out of ear shot, Christian said softly, "Mia wears a different satin every year with her hair to match, and she'd got the kindest heart in the south. Ah...now this couple, they'll give you the third degree."

A couple as disapproving as the ancestral portraits at Grey Acres was walking towards them, the women's thin lips coated with what was no doubt Dior lipstick. Ana tensed, then soon discovered she'd scarcely needed to. With a skill she had to admire, Christian fielded questions that were more than pointed and observations that verged on bitchy. Then he whisked her away to meet a white maned senator who'd gone to college with Carrick.  
One by one, the expensively dressed guests paraded past her.  
She waltzed with Christian, and with the senator and gradually she relaxed. She couldn't fault Christian behavior, he was taking every measure he could to make sure that she enjoyed herself, and his physical closeness as they danced together set her heart singing. As they filled their plates at a buffet so colorful, so enticing that she forgot everything in pure delight, she heard herself laughing and chatting as though she'd been attending society functions all her life.  
Her past was another world.  
Where had that thought come from? Ana shoved it away as she helped herself to tiny rolls of puff pastry stuffed with shrimp and avocado.

The contrast between this world and her past was too cruel.  
She took another drink of champagne, bubbles tickled her nostrils. After they had eaten, Christian led her onto the dance floor again, his steel hard muscles under his formal jacket brought a flush to her cheeks, a liquid grace to her movements. Eyes shining, lips parted, she abandoned herself to the sheer pleasure of being in his arms.  
But then the band struck up a Latin rhythm, catchy and sensual.

"The powder room, I'll be back in a minute." she said smiling up at him.

"I'll keep an eye out for you." he said

It wasn't the moment to remember how, at dawn two mornings ago, those same eyes had roamed from the rosy tips of her breasts to her writhing hips, his big body hovering over her.

"Won't be long." she mumbled blushing.

The powder room wouldn't have been out of place in a Grey hotel, for it boasted gold framed mirrors, fragrant bouquets of freesias, and a luxurious array of creams, soaps and linen hand towels. Trying not to gape, Ana discovered a small sitting room off the bathroom, wallpapered in the same heavy brocade, and tucked herself in one corner. Easing off her sandals, she decided to repair her lipstick and take some breathing space before she went back to the ballroom.  
The outside door opened.

"Carrick's grand daughter is a pretty little thing." a well bred voice said languidly.

Ana froze in her seat.

"The gal's a raving beauty. Head over heels in love with Christian, of course." a younger voice replied.

"Naive of her to be so obvious about it, someone should warn her. Won't be any wedding bells in that direction." the languid voice replied.

"If I was twenty years younger and forty pound lighter, I'd be in love with him too." the younger one sighed.

"Wont get you anywhere, darling. Christian isn't the marrying. Pity all those lovely girls he has had."

"You remember Elena, the bitch? She's here with her latest man. She had an affair with him a year or so ago and he called all the shots."

"Guess that is how you end up with a billionaire...shall we go back? What do you think of Mia's hair?"

"Waiting for the year she chooses blue satin." one girl laughed.

"Darling really..."

The door closed behind them. Ana let out her pent up breath, deeply thankful they hadn't checked out the sitting room. With some difficulty, because he fingers were trembling, she did up her gold shoes.

"I'm in love with Christian, Head over heels in love with him." she thought to herself.

What was she going to do?


	22. Chapter 22

**Oh goodness another update for my lovely readers. I hope you like it and don't forget to leave a review. =] The next chapter is going to be extremely small but that it because I didn't want to put it in this one and I didn't want to put it in the one after that haha.**

Chapter Twenty Two:

She was in love with Christian, Ana thought. Of course she was.  
The truth had been staring her right in the face for days, but it had taken two gossipy socialites to make it sink in. Happiness rose like sunlight within her, brilliantly bright and warm. How astonishing, she thought. How amazing! She, Anastasia Steele, had fallen in love with a man so handsome, so sexy, that he turned her bones to water.  
She had no idea when it had happened, so gradually she hadn't noticed, or very suddenly in the barn when she'd sobbed all over him. Did it matter?

Her reflection in one of the mirrors was staring back at her, a radiant smile on it's face. Her heart was racing as though she'd been waltzing for thirty minutes nonstop. Hastily she took her lipstick from her gold evening bag and applied it to her lips. She tried subsiding the smile that was on her face. She couldn't hide it forever. But how was she going to face Christian knowing that she loved him?  
You've always had secrets, she told herself. This is a happy one for a change. But it's still your secret. Just pray he's not in intimate conversation with a women.  
She ran a brush through her hair and walked back into the ballroom. The band was playing a tango, music so aggressively sexual that her steps slowed. She saw Christian immediately.  
He was dancing with a tall leggy brunette in a backless black dress, a sultry smile on her lips.  
Dancing? He wasn't dancing. He was publicly making love to her, dipping her backward, whirling her in circles, pulling her toward him only to thrust her away.  
An untamed mix of fury and knife sharp pain ripped through her body, red hot, ice cold. Christian, who had promised to watch out for her, had totally forgotten her.  
The brunette didn't have a limited repertoire.

So this, Ana thought, was jealousy. The dark side of love, it's ugly sister. Although she'd never felt it before, she knew what it was instantly. She wanted to tear the women from Christian's arms. She wanted to run for the door and keep running until she was.. where? Where could she run? For Christian was everywhere and wherever she ran, she'd carry him with her.  
And that, too was love.  
The band ended on a triumphant chord. Christian had whipped the brunette to his chest and was holding her to his body.  
He was laughing.

"Now, honey, you must not wear your heart on those cute cap sleeves of yours for everyone to see. Here, have some more wine. I always say that there isn't a trouble invented that a glass of wine can't fix." Mia said briskly.

Numbly Ana took the proffered crystal flute.

"I'm in love with him," she blurted.

"Of course you are. Who wouldn't be? Just because I am married to fashion doesn't mean I can't admire the finest set of pecs this side of California. But honey, I should warn you. Marriage is a dirty word as far as Christian is concerned. His mothers history is messy, very messy. And then him being put into care... Well who can blame him for being shy about it?"

"In care?" Ana faltered. She'd always assumed that his mother was Grace and she married Carrick Grey. Certainly Christian always spoke of Grace like she was his own mother.

Mia gave a sigh that was partly pleasurable. "What a horrible story it was, the poor little boys mother passing away when he was so young and being left with her for days while she was dead. But he has always classed Grace as his real mother to stop the pain of it, but while it was all happening the lawyers got rich, which is always the way. In the end the judge voted that he be adopted because they couldn't find any other family." She gave Ana a glance. "This is news to you? Christian's always been closemouthed since he was a boy, with very good reason only a few people know."

When had she, Ana, ever asked Christian about his real father. Or what had happened to that father? She hadn't. She'd been too absorbed in her own troubles, and had she thought guiltily, too easily jumped on to the conclusion that Christian, so rich, so handsome, so accomplished, had no real troubles of his own other then a relationship with Carrick.  
So a father that hadn't wanted Christian and one he didn't feel worthy of love from. The mystery that was Christian was suddenly clearer to Ana. No wonder commitment was a dirty word to him. A rejection had scarred him for life, marked him so deeply that he wouldn't allow himself to need her. Or be needed by her.  
To love or be loved.

"There now, Christian's looking for you. Off you go, honey, and take my advice play your cards close to your emeralds." Mia said.

"Thanks Mia," she said trying to hold back tears and started across the room toward Christian. The brunette had vanished. He was standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching her approach, waiting for her. Out of duty?

In spite of herself, anger was hot in her heart again. She'd told Christian the sordid story of her past but had he confided in her? No sir.  
Anger was preferable to swooning at his feet because she'd been stupid enough to fall in love with him. Or bursting into tears because of his past and that he would never marry her.  
Marriage, she thought blankly. She was the woman who'd said fairly adamantly, as she recalled that she never wanted to marry anyone or to need anyone.  
She'd changed her mind. A total about face. But would Christian ever change his?

"You were gone a long time." he said curtly.

"You managed to entertain yourself while I was gone."

"Leila asked me to dance."

Her heart clenched in her chest. "an old friend?" she said.

"She and I were lovers a year or so ago, and I'm only telling you before you hear it from someone else." he said impatiently.

"So we've had Elena and now Leila. Are we working our way through the alphabet?" she felt like the devil had control of her tongue.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were jealous."

"You know me very well. In bed at least."

"Ana, if you want to have a knock-em-down fight, I'll be happy to oblige but not here and not now." he said with treacherous gentleness.

A headache was brewing behind her eyes. "I wish I'd never left the island. And never met you!" she said with the truth of desperation.

"You've done both. The senator wants to you to meet his brother and sister in law. They have a summer place in Maine. Come along." he said brusquely.

For a moment she contemplated marching straight out of the ballroom into the cool night that would really set tongues wagging, and not just in the powder room. The thought sheered her up somewhat and the senator's family turned out to be as charming as the senator.

Dancing with Christian, thought, in what way was only a facade of intimacy, was more painful than Ana would have believed possible. She couldn't bear for him to guess that she was in love with him, when, briefly she was introduced to a group that included Leila, she kept her poise by sheer force of will. But her headache worsened, a dull throbbing had settled behind her eyes, interspersed with sudden flashed of pain.

As he took her onto the dance floor in yet another waltz, Christian said evenly, "What's wrong?"

"I have a headache."

"Why didn't you say so? I'll take you home."

To her own bed at Grey Acres. Alone. Because she would use the headache, Ana thought with unhappy truth, the other thing she didn't dare do was make love with Christian, knowing that she loved him. In the intimacy of his big bed how could she possibly disguise her feelings?

"Sounds good." she said in careful understatement.

Ten minutes later they were in the car and Christian looked concerned.

"Do you have any aspirin?" Christian asked.

"No, I never get headaches."

"Why tonight? You were a great success."

The words spilled out in spite of her trying to keep them inside. "What do you have against marriage and love Christian?"

"I already told you, a high potential for boredom." he glanced over at her, eyes hooded.

"Nothing to do with your mother and being put into care?"

His hands clenched into fists. "Who told you about that?"

"Not you."

"Why would I?"

Hurt slammed through her. So love was also vulnerability, she thought.

"I told you about Jake and Hans." she said carefully.

"My mother was a crack whore who overdosed and I was left there with her dead body so I had to go in care." he said flatly.

"You were young weren't you?"

"I was just a small boy, I got adopted end of story."

"Beginning of story, I'd say. If you've been running from love ever since... Christian I am so sorry I never asked. I always assumed that Grace was your mother."

"She and Carrick were wonderful to me as a boy and even through till Grace passed away. But the Rose Room at home says it all. at heart, Grace was a conventional woman. They were settled. Comfortable. Content. If that's all there is I would rather be single." He was balling his hands into fists harder the longer they spoke.

"You and I aren't like that."

"Lust Anastasia. It'll burn out. It always does."

"And what if it doesn't? Are you still going to run away?"

"Dammit, it's not that simple. You're Carrick's granddaughter, I'm responsible for you." he exploded.

"I'm responsible for myself!"

"I don't care if this sounds arrogant, I'm worried that if we continue our affair you'll get in too deep." he said.

"You're afraid I'll fall in love with you, what if I already have?" She said with deadly accuracy, and watched him nod.

"Don't play games."

"What if I asked you to marry me? What would you say?"

"Taylor pull over."

As they come to a stop he turned in his seat to face her, his eyes burning into hers.

"Am I missing something here? What the hell is going on?"

"Answer my question."

"I'd say no."

She flinched, "Just like that."

"Anastasia, you're not in love with me. In less than three weeks you have been lifted out of a backwater island, presented with a new grandfather and thrust into high society, its no surprise that..."

"You left something out," she said icily. "I also lost my virginity. Or had you forgotten?"

"I should never have started his affair! When you knocked on my door in Venice. I should have sent you back to your room. I was the one with experience and I don't care what you say, I was the one responsible for you."

"But you didn't send me back," she said softly and knew at some deep level that she was fighting for her life. "I'm the women who makes you break the rules. Who destroys your control, who drives you out of your mind and now I'm the one sounding arrogant. Christian, do you seriously think that you and I would have a boring marriage and life? Or that our children would ever be used or put in care if we ever did divorce?"

"For fuck sake, one more reason I'm against marriage is so I never have to go near a divorce lawyer."

"Was your real father a good man?"

"I wouldn't know I never met him and I am glad that I never have. He abandoned me with my mother"

"You're a good man at heart Christian. You love Carrick, I know you do and he loves you. You are not like your father as different as could be."

"Since when did you get to be such an authority?"

"Since you first took me into your bed. I may be inexperienced, but some things can't be faked. Your care for me, your generosity, your passion. They're you. Your essence."

She was leaning forward, speaking with the intensity that was so characteristic of her. The sweet rise of her breasts above her dress clawed Christian with desire, the single emerald was swinging gently in her cleavage, shooting green sparks. When he had chosen the pendant, hadn't pictures making love to her with it as the only item she had on her body? Right now, he ached to take her in his arms, to end this discussion the only way he knew how.  
She was in danger of falling in love with him. Tonight had proved it. And there was another way to end the discussion. A brutal way, yes but brutally effective. Not stopping to think because if he did he might back out.

"When we started this affair, we made the agreement when the time came to end it, we'd do it up-front. That time's come, Ana. I'm ending it. Now. My only regret is starting it in the first place." Christian said.

"You regret making love to me?" she faltered as she shrank back in her seat.

"That's not what I meant."

"That's what it sounded like!"

"In Adelaide and Venezuela we'll act as business partners only, After that you're on your own. I'll keep out of your way at home. Or wherever you choose to go." he said biting off the words.

"What about Carrick?" she said.

"If you are wise you will never tell Carrick we've been involved."

"As thought I'm ashamed of the best thing to ever happen to me." she started getting angry.

"Because it is none of his business!"

"Keep everything compartmentalized. That's how you've always lived isn't it? Sex over here, business over there and no place for feelings." she snapped.

"I'll live my life the way I choose. Right now I am ending our affair before I do more harm than I've already done. It's not open for negotiation."

"And what if I say no?"

"My minds made up and that's it."

"Fuck you Christian Grey." she said turning and facing the window.

As suddenly as they had stopped the car, Christian motioned for Taylor to drive again. The Maserati surged forward into the darkness. Ana leaned back on the cool leather and closed her eyes, her hands clenched in her lap. Other than confessing she'd fallen in love with Christian, and begged him to marry her would more could she say. She'd fought for her life, for her newly discovered love and she'd lost. The Venetian affair had just come to an end on a country road.  
Into her mind dropped the image of her little cabin by the sea. She was going back there, she thought.  
As soon as she could. Carrick could visit her there if he chose to. But she was through dancing to Christians tune. She was a strong independent women who didn't need him.

Her headache was a vicious, throbbing reality as though a dozen rock bands were tuning up inside her skull. All she wanted was to be alone, so that for the second time in her life she could cry her eyes out.  
But not yet. She had too much pride to show Christian how deeply he had hurt her.

The drive home seemed to last forever, as she followed Christian up the front steps at Grey Acres she was swaying with fatigue.

"I've acted for the best tonight, Ana. You don't agree with me now, but in time you will." he said tightly.

"Don't try and control my feelings. You may be a billionaire, but if you wont risk falling in love with me you might as well be poverty stricken." she seethed

His fingers dug into her elbow. "That's ludicrous and you know it."

"Let go of me," she said with iciness of true rage. "You don't want to have an affair with me so I am now off limits. No touching aloud."

Her skin was cool and silken smooth. He was right to end the affair, eh knew he was. Yet all he wanted to do was pull Ana into his arms and kiss her senseless.  
Christian dropped her elbow, matching her rage with his own.

"You're assuming I want to touch you."

"Go back to Elena. Or Leila. But leave me alone." she said and pushed open the door. To her infinite relief, Christian didn't follow her up the stairs. Alone in her own bedroom at last, she locked he door and leaned against the panels. But her eyes were dry, burning in their sockets.  
She kicked off her gold sandals, stepped out of the dress and flung the emerald earrings and bracelet on the dresser.  
However once again she couldn't manage the clasp on her necklace. Swearing under hear breath she left it dangling around her neck, and grabbed the least sexy night gown.  
Then she stationed herself on the window seat overlooking the paddock and gently rising hills, leaned against the cold glass and waited for the night to be over.


	23. Chapter 23

**A short little filler chapter here. But it hurts my heart to say that there is only Two more chapters after this one and then it is the end. But don't worry I will be writing another story that I have started in my little note book that I have. So you all will hear from me again =]**

Chapter Twenty Three:

At seven the next morning, Ana threw on a pair of jeans and started downstairs. Her plan was to go to the barn. For comfort, she thought, and as she turned the corner saw with a stab of pure agony that Christian was standing in the foyer. Christian and his overnight bag.  
With all her willpower she forced herself to continue her descent.  
Then he glanced up, caught sight of her and took a step toward her. She froze on the bottom step.

"I'm heading for home for a couple of days, I want to see Carrick. Best thing for you is to stay here." he said choppily.

"I'm coming with you." Her decision was instant.

"Ana, you're not..."

"You're through ruining my life." she interrupted, "I have to see Carrick too. He's my grandfather and he's not well."

"So it's not a charade anymore, you and Carrick." Christian said reluctantly.

She let out her breath in a small sigh. "He meant nothing to me initially, I was being honest when I told you that...and he's not the rock to cling to that I needed so desperately when I was small. But he shares my blood and in his obstinate way he's trying to do right by me, I can't turn my back on him. He's all I've got." she said, her voice shaking.

"He needs you as much as you need him." Christian said harshly.

"He needs you too."

"Don't kid yourself. He told me the day I moved in that he didn't want me to call him dad. I was so young but I knew the message there. Carrick doesn't need me. He never has."

"Elliot must have caused him so much grief, perhaps you didn't realize that he would have only said that and meant that he didn't want you to call him dad until you were ready and he was afraid of being hurt too." Ana said frowning.

Christian's gut clenched. Of curse. It was so blindingly obvious that he hadn't seen it. Elliot would have broken Carrick's heart over and over again and Christian was so distant when he arrived. Why wouldn't Carrick keep his adoptive son at a distance slightly?  
The look on Christian's face stabbed Ana to the core.

"Maybe it's time that you ask Carrick why he didn't push you to get close to him, and if it was a bit of self protection."

Christian wasn't about to make any promises, to her or to himself.

"If you're coming with me Ana you better hurry."

Once again Christian had retreated, his face a tight mask.

"Give me five minutes to pack my bag," Ana said briefly.

She ran upstairs, dragged her suitcase out of the closet. Leaving the elegant green gown on it's hanger because she never wanted to see it again. She flung in some of her casual clothes and changed into an uncrushable silk pantsuit.  
Hastily she tucked the necklace beneath the camisole and snapped the case shut.  
In a few hours she'd be back home and this time she wouldn't be leaving.  
She hurried downstairs. Christian was waiting for her in the car. After she slammed her door he told Taylor to start driving.

"The cook filled the thermos with coffee and there are a couple of freshly baked Danish in the box" he said in a voice devoid of feeling.

"The cook deserves a medal," Ana replied and put on her dark glasses, ostensibly against the early morning sun, in actuality to hide from Christian. She was hungry, she realized on faint surprise, and she poured herself a mug of coffee.  
In between chewing apricot croissants and taking naps to catch up on her sleep, she kept up a patter of light conversation during the journey for which she herself deserved a medal, she thought to herself. But she was damned if she was going to let Christian know that he'd broken her heart.  
What a trite phrase. Yet her rib cage felt sore, her muscles ached from tension and a cold knot had lodged itself in her belly. Unromantic symptoms, but all too real.  
She'd tell Carrick her plans tonight, and tomorrow she'd go home to her shack.  
Once again, it would be the haven she'd always needed.


	24. Chapter 24

**As I sit here and update this chapter I am sad because there is only one more after this. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

Chapter Twenty Four:

Several hours later, they pulled up in front of the mansion.

"I'll go see Carrick first. When it is your turn, don't upset him." He said tersely.

"No, Mr Grey." Ana said flippantly. It had been a very long day.

He turned in his seat, his grey eyes turbulent. "Do you think it's easy, ending our affair when all I want to do is haul you off to the nearest bed? But I'm doing the right thing, I know I am. So quit making snide remarks!"

"If it's that difficult, why is it the right thing?"

He seized her by the shoulders, planted a furious kiss full on her mouth, then pushed her away.

"The butler will bring your case in," he snarled. "I won't be long with Carrick for very long."

Inside the house, Christian took the stairs two at a time. Hastily he scrubbed at his mouth before he tapped on the door, the last thing he needed was lipstick smeared on his face.  
As he walked in Carrick's room, the old man's face changed.

"Thought you were the doc. Got me on a new medication, seems to be doing wonders. But he insists I sit around like a broody hen half the day."

"Then maybe you should listen," Christian said. His vice tight, he added, "I need to talk to you."

"Talk all you like, I got time."

There was no point in being subtle.

"Through spending time with Ana, I've come to understand what a huge grief to you Elliot must have been, Carrick. Is that why you were a bit reluctant to take on a second son? And why you told me that you didn't want me to call you dad?"

"He nearly destroyed me," Carrick said harshly. "From the time he was a little boy, eh was dishonest, aggressive and casually cruel. I couldn't fathom him or tolerate him. Couldn't make him change his ways either. After they he took off Elliot contacted me for money, I paid him off on the condition that he stayed away. And once Ana was born I sent monthly allowances, well you know what happened to that. But Christian I always wanted you to call me Dad I just wanted you to do it at your own pace."

"You didn't try to see her," Christian said stiffly.

Carrick passed his hand over his face, he looked. Christian thought in compunction, every year his age.

"I never told Grace just how bad Elliot had gotten, thought she'd quit loving me if she knew that he had turned into a rotten egg for a son. So I couldn't tell her about Anastasia either and I regret it. I loved your mother Christian but I never really understood why she loved me."

"You didn't think you deserved her," Christian said in sudden enlightenment.

It was as though a great weight he'd scarcely been aware of carrying had lifted from his chest.

"If it is isn't to late and you are willing, may I call you dad?" Christian said slowly.

Carrick cleared his throat, "It would make me the happiest."

"Ana has done us a good turn." Christian said huskily.

"That she has, so what do you think of the latest vote in congress?" Carrick sat up straight.

With alacrity, Christian dove into the murky field of politics, an area where he and Carrick and never seen eye to eye. Half an hour later he went to his office to check his faxed from LA, he was planning to fly there tomorrow, put some space between him and Ana.  
There would be no affairs between them again.

Early the next morning, Taylor left Ana at the top of her driveway on the island. Fog had rolled in during the night. Waves crashed softly onto the beach, rattling the pebbles. A gull mewed eerily.  
She started down the slope and knew that with every step she took, Christian was flying further and further away from her, on is way to LA.  
Pressing business he had said. A good time to put a little distance between them.  
Startling her, a crow cawed from it's perch on a bit of ghost white driftwood. She'd slept badly, and had spent the black hours of the night trying to convince herself that she was confusing lust with romance, and sex with love. It hadn't worked. She loved Christian through and through.  
Unrequited love was another cliche, she thought dipping into her purse for her house keys. How was she to live with it, day after day? Where would she find the resolve to get up in the morning?  
The cabin smelled musty and unlived in. Her plants had died from lack of water, and a storm had crusted the windows with salt spray. Why had she never realized how small the cabin was?  
she shivered, trailing into her bedroom, where she'd slept alone so happily, content to hear the tides rise and fall and the seabirds cry. It, too, felt so tiny.  
She should open a few windows, cycle to the store, get some food in. Instead she walked out onto the deck, the deck where she'd served Christian coffee and homemade muffins on a morning that now seemed like a lifetime ago. The fog was cool on her cheeks, dampening her hair.

The other man she loved was of course Carrick, Gramps she'd called him on their last couple of visits, not realizing the name was concealing true affection. But when she'd seen him yesterday, caged in his room like a ruffled old eagle she'd understood how much he meant to her.  
Love in two very different guises, had trapped her. She couldn't run off to the Chateau in France and make a new life for herself thousands of miles from Christian like she wanted. She needed to be closer to Carrick.  
Close to Carrick meant close to her heart and Christian.  
Trapped, indeed. In the last three weeks, her world had expanded it's boundaries immeasurably. From Manhattan to Madrid, from hotels and gondoliers to horse barns and vineyards, she'd discovered a whole new existence and in Christians arms, she'd fund a fulfillment that had drenched her in intimacy.  
She couldn't go back to the life she'd known on the island, she thought, gazing into the thick folds of fog. It was too late.  
She'd outgrown her little cabin.  
Yet, at this precise moment she had no idea what was to replace it.  
As though the fog had shifted, clearing the view, she suddenly remembered herself as a little girl, the day she fell off the red swing at the playground. She'd scrapped her knee, it had oozed a nasty mixture of blood and gravel. She'd run for her nanny, knowing that she would hold her and comfort her, and the pain would go away...  
That's what I'll do Ana thought, I'll go to Madrid and see Ysabel. She'll understand, maybe just maybe she can tell me what to do next.  
Quickly she fumbled in her pocket for Taylor's number. If Christian could fly west, she could fly east. Perhaps he was right, and distance was what she needed.

Christian got back home the next day. With immense reluctance he stared up at Carrick's seaside mansion. Ana was inside. In a few minutes, he'd have to face her.  
He'd driven himself and his employees into the ground in LA. It hadn't helped. Day and night, he'd been saturated with Ana's absence, darkness of course, far worse then daylight.  
Withdrawal symptoms, Christian thought with vicious emphasis, as he mounted the front steps. He'd gone from a heavy dose of the most amazing sex in his life to nine at all.  
No wonder he was sleeping badly.  
Inside the dogs greeted him with wild enthusiasm, then the butler handed him a note.

"From Miss Steele, And Mr Grey would like to see you before he settles for the night." he said.

In the privacy of his room, Christian tore open the envelope and read the brief message.

 _By the time you get this, I'll be in Madrid with Ysabel. Then I may go to Amsterdam. You're right, Christian. We need to put distance between us._

 _Anastasia Steele._

He should be relieved that he didn't have to face her, that she'd gotten the message that his way was the right way. The only way.  
He wasn't.  
Madrid was bad enough, Christian thought furiously. But Ana, alone, in Amsterdam? What was she thinking?  
He was going after her. Amsterdam was, for her, a city of nightmares, and be damned if she was going to face them on her own.  
So much for distance, a little voice sneered at him.  
Shut up he snarled, went to the phone and made a couple of calls. The he unpacked and repacked, showered and had a brief visit with Carrick. A visit during which he determinedly confined the conversation to matters of business.


	25. Chapter 25

**Here's the last chapter my lovely's see bottom after the chapter for another little note =]**

Chapter Twenty Five:

Several hours later, Christian was standing in the lobby of Madrid's Grey Hotel talking to the receptionist.

"Anastasia Steele, she hasn't checked out has she?" he said, his voice gravelly from jet lag.

"No sir. She's checking out tomorrow morning. Let me call her room."

Although Ana didn't answer, Christian at least knew she wasn't in Amsterdam. He ordered a cab and went straight to Ysabel's apartment.  
Ysabel opened the door. Her accent more pronounced than usual.

"Christian I wasn't expecting you." she said.

"I'm looking for Anastasia." he said stepping inside, his eyes sweeping the small cluttered room.

Ysabel stepped back. "Why?"

Her voice was far from friendly, and she wasn't asking him to sit down.

"To go to Amsterdam with her." He said flatly.

"She's not caught in your, how do you say? apron ties. She'd a grown women and your affair with her is over."

"So she told you?"

"It's not your business what she tells me."

"I couldn't risk her falling in love with me, Ysabel!"

Ysabel's magnificent dark eyes flashed, "Love isn't a disease. It's what makes us human."

He wasn't in the mood for a sermon. "Fine," he said, "Where is she?"

"You've come a long way to see her."

"Where is she? I have to talk to her." he repeated, holding tight to his temper.

"She left two hours ago to go back to her hotel."

"On foot?"

"Of course. It wasn't then dark."

"She's not at the hotel," Christian snapped.

"Then she'd gone into a bar to hear flamenco. Or into a restaurant for dinner. I suggest you go back to the hotel and wait for her. But if you hurt her again, You will have me ripping off your family jewels, you understand?" she meant every word.

"I never intended to hurt her," he said roughly.

"Then you should have been more careful with her heart."

"So she has fallen in love with me." Christian stood still, the truth hitting like a blow.

"That's for you to find out."

"She was very fortunate that you were in her life when she was so young, thank you. For all that you've done for her." he said then let himself out, running down the stairs and emerging onto the street.

Under orange awnings, couples were seated on the sidewalk, drinking beer and wine. Music rollicked from nearby bar. Taking out his cell phone, Christian called the hotel but Ana still wasn't in her room. He began to walk, trying to picture the route she'd take, his eyes darted back and forth across the heavy traffic, the whole time he was reining in an anxiety that would cripple him if he allowed it to.  
Once he thought he saw her, a chestnut haired woman with her back to him in a bar, eating and laughing at something the man next to her had just said.  
His heart contracted with the hot pang of what was unquestionably jealousy but when the woman turned her head he saw she was older than Ana and nowhere near as beautiful.  
Ana was certainly free to spend her time with whomever she wished. Or, he thought savagely, to take another man into her bed.  
He crossed a busy square, taxis honking their horns, a policeman watched the chaos with a bored eye. Then from two streets over, he heard sirens wailing. He turned down the street as though the sound was a magnet, his pulse racing. A truck was veered to one side with its hood badly dented, while a small sedan was crushed against a lamp post. Serious enough but nothing to do wth Ana.  
What if it had been? What if her body was being loaded into the back door of the ambulance?  
What if, what if? What the devil was wrong with him?  
She was a women alone at night in a city that had the usual quota of crimes. Large and small. He couldn't bare not knowing if she was safe or not.  
It was no longer anxiety cruising his nerves, it was fear.  
An unruly gang of punks surged along the sidewalk toward him. Young males, high on testosterone and drugs, carelessly and loudly aggressive in their studded black leather and dangling chains. Christian knew from experience that in a flash they could change to something more dangerous.  
A straggler, obviously drunk, bumped into him, to his overwrought imagination, the man could have easily been Hans, the gang leader who'd threatened her life seven years ago.

"Get away from me," Christian snarled.

Adrenaline racing through his veins, his fists bunched at his sides. He knew any number of nasty moves from his two years of roughing it, if he had to he would use them.  
Something must have shown on his face, the punk staggering off, belching.  
Christian straightened, his muscles taut on a ferocious mixture of aggression and rage.  
If anything happened to Ana tonight, he'd never forgive himself.  
Because he loved her.  
No, he didn't, he thought wildly. He wasn't in love with anyone. And he knew the words for a lie as soon as they'd flashed across his brain.  
He, Christian Grey, had fallen in love with the green eyes, fiery tempered woman who'd turned his life upside down.  
For a moment, all his other emotions were submerged in pure amazement at the rightness of a truth that was dazzlingly obvious. He stepped to one side of the pavement, the crowds eddying in around him. His jealousy, his mounting fear, his increasingly desperate search for her on the busy streets of a Spanish city, were all clues he'd ignored.  
He had to find her. Tell her. Take her in his arms and make love to her the night through.  
Providing she'd have him.  
He couldn't go there. Not now.  
Christian took off down the pavement as a fast clip. It took him thirty minutes to reach the hotel. Its baroque facade and decorated columns mocked him with their solidity until he found Ana, nothing in the world was solid.  
He marched into the lobby and phoned her room, hearing a shrill, repetitive ringing until the voice mail clicked on.  
Then he checked the bar and the lounge. His last stop was the dining room, paneled in ornately carved mahogany, with tropical plants creating small oases of privacy among the scattered Moroccan carpets.  
At the far end, tucked into a corner table, Ana was having dinner.

A book was open in front of her. She was absorbed in it, absently sipping a glass of champagne.  
She looked as if she didn't have a care in the world.  
Suddenly enraged beyond any bounds of common sense, Christian strode the length of the room, bamboo brushing his shoulders, the occasional waiter skipping nimbly out of his way. He came to a halt beside her table.

"You look very much at home," he said.

The book slipped from her fingers, knocking over a silver dish filled with curls of butter.

"Christian!" she gasped, pushing back her chair and scrambling to her feet. "What are you doing here? Than she paled. "Carrick...he's had another heart attack?"

"Carrick's fine."

"Then what?"

"Tell me you're happy to see me," he said hoarsely.

"Why should I? You ended our affair as casually as if you were tossing aside a book you'd read." he chin snapped up.

"I was wrong, I made a mistake."

She swept on as though he hadn't spoken. "I came here to put distance between us. Distance that you insisted on, not me. So why are you here when I'm doing my best to forget about you?"

Her eyes were ablaze with fury, but around her neck he saw the glimmer of a gold chain.

"You're wearing the pendent I gave you."

"I can't undo the clasp, if you want it back it's all yours." she retorted.

"I want you to marry me," he said.

Her jaw dropped, she gripped the edge of the table as though it was all that was holding her up.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"No," he said with a grin, "I'm jet lagged. I've been half crazy with worry ever since I found out you'd left Ysabel's apartment three hours ago, and I nearly started a brawl on the sidewalk. I don't have a ring and I haven't composed any fancy speeches, so if you want heart a flowers, you're out of luck. But I do want you to marry me."

"Why? because instead of chasing after you I headed on the opposite direction?"

"Because I love you," he said.

"This isn't happening...I'm dreaming and any minute now I'm going to wake up all by myself in bed." Ana gaped at him.

Christian took her in his arms, running his hands up and down her spine, then kissing her, sinking into the kiss until there was nothing else in the world but this one woman. With all her strength, Ana pushed him away.

"Stop it! One day the affair's over and the next day you are kissing me as though there's no tomorrow?" she was pummeling him on the chest. I'll bore you, I'll make demands on you. I won't let your nasty birth father be in your mind anymore. You don't me."

He captured her hands in his, Gazing down into her furious eyes as he put all the conviction of his new found love into his voice.

"My body wants you, that hasn't changed. Never will. But my heart want's you too. My heart and my soul. And they're what really count."

"Oh," she said, and he watched as fury was replaced by an emotion he couldn't decipher. "That sounds sort of like poetry to me."

"I was a fool to end our affair. I was running scared, you were right. You were so different, you made nonsense of all my rules and I didn't have a clue how to handle the way you made me feel."  
"How did I make you feel?" Ana asked, knowing the question was all important. In spite of herself, her hands crept up his chest, seeking the warmth and hardness of his body, so achingly familiar, so agonizingly missed.

"As though I was born to find you, to need you and to love you. To marry you." he said hoarsely.

"You hated needing me, It made you run the opposite direction." she said pithily.

"I've stopped running," he said wryly. "About time don't you say?" He raked his fingers through his hair searching for an argument that might persuade her, coming up with nothing but the strength of his own feelings.

"Say you will marry me. Or if you don't want marriage, that you'll at least live with me." he pleaded.

"There's something you're forgetting. Something crucial." she said.

"Tell me what it is."

"You haven't asked how I feel about you."

"Hell Anastasia, I'm scared to. I've done everything in my power the last few days to push you away and now I'm supposed to ask you if you love me?"

"You got the question right," Ana said with a sudden radiant smile that pulled at his heart strings.

"So what's the answer?" he said roughly.

Finally she said the words she'd been longing to say for what felt like forever, "I do love you, Christian. I realized it at the ball, when I was skulking in the powder room, the very night you ended our affair." She bit her lip. "Terrible timing."

"I thought I was doing the right thing. For both of us. I've been wrong a few times in my life, but that night took the cake." He linked his arms around her waist. "Tell me again that you love me."

"I love you, love you, love you. And I'll do my best not to bore you." Her smile broke out again.

"That's the least of my worries" Christian said, and kissed her again. A kiss fueled by a gratitude's deep and as passionate as his love and this time he felt her yield. More than yield, he thought with a flood of joy, her response rocketed through him.

"Marry me Ana, I'll be good to you as I know how, I swear I will. And I'll love you as long as there's breath in my body."

"I'll marry you Christian."

"Even though you swore off marriage years ago?"

"If you can change your mind, I can change mine."

His own smile broke through.

"I want you to wear white like the white you were wearing when you came to my room in Venice."

"We could honeymoon in Venice."

"A Venetian Marriage, sounds fine to me." He said huskily.

"You won't be able to back out, we have a whole dining room full of witnesses." she said laughing.

"Then maybe I should order champagne all around, and ask everyone to rise their glasses to my future bride." he kissed her deeply and then looked in her eyes.

"Maybe you should." she said breathlessly.

So he did.

 **End-**

 **It is with great sadness that we are now at the end of this story. I hope you have all liked it and I would like to say thank you all to have read this story and left reviews. I have already started another story and I will soon have the first chapter up for you to read.**

 **So until we are here again this is goodbye for now. =] Thank you guys for staying to read.**


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